I spent the night at ngo's last saturday, after a long day of paper-macheing (it's that the word?) and rehearsal. Good talk, good chat, good laughs... before we went to sleep (Carlos spent the night too) we also saw Sin City (ngo's fifth time this month). Basically nice good ol' fun.
I woke up to an eggs-n-spinach breakfast, which my tummy welcomed. I felt kind of drowsy, but not to an extent that I haven't felt before. We were supposed to leave to pick up some of my stuff from another friend's flat, so I went upstairs to take a leak. The bathroom smelled nice. While I was doing my business I felt that I wanted to cough, but I held it in because I didn't want to splatter. So I finished, I coughed a bit and then...
I was sitting down, chatting with Julia, telling her about the interesting peculiarities between american football and rugby. I just became a fan (of rugby, the sport, not of any team in particular) and was very interested to let everybdoy know about it. Some guys approached me and offered me to show her what I was talking about (so, apparently, we were in some part of the U.K.). I accepted and they beat the crap out of me, but all in good fun. In one of their tackles, I layed on the ground laughing at the fact that I sucked at the sport, but it felt good to do something like that for a change.
So there I was, on the ground, with a grin on my face. I think I landed on a rock or something because I felt this little pain on my neck. The floor was hard too; unusual for a lawn. It smelled nice too, not outdoorsy nice, but more like, I don't know, like a bathroom.
"Caleb, there's no toilet paper. I'll leave some out in the hallway."
So there I was, on the bathroom floor, with my pants a little stained (not that much, I'd already finished). My head landed on a plastic bucket and my right shoulder, whilst I'm writing this, is still hurting. I stood up, looked myself in the mirror (to check if I were still me), zipped up, washed my hands, and wetted my face and hair. Went down and asked Carlos how long was I up there; apparently (which, now, I'm figuring is the word of the post) I was up there for around five minutes, meaning that I may have been 'out' for around ten or twenty seconds.
It's weird now, everything around me feels like a dream. Maybe because I'm expecting to wake up at any minute. Everything is 'apparent' now, not really there. It may be there, but I just may be asleep, so for now it's only apparently there. Philosophy scholars may argue that it actually may be a good thing: an objective point of view of the metaphysicality of things, to doubt the very existence of stuff around us, of even ourselves:
'I think, therefore I exist': crap on stick, your thoughts may not be yours, only an illusion of thoughts that apparently come from within you. Within you may lie another being that is thinking for you and feeding your so-called thoughts, you may only be the flesh-and-bone vehicle/representation of such thoughts, and you may only be here to act them out. Interestingly enough, if that representation would happen to come about, would you exist anyway? Yeah, you may only be the vehicle, but a vehicle needs to exist to act out stuff: even with being only a representation of something else, you still shoud exist, just in a crappier version of what you first thought (ironically).
But from what I've perceiving: it was just too god damn scary... I have something to tell the grandchildren, if they ever do exist.