Tour of the Mind

Everyday when I wake up there is something on my mind, rushing through my head telling me there are things I need to get done: eat, brush my teeth, or stop falling back asleep. Maybe I’ll never know why or how I come to think. Something I can always know is what I am thinking right now. I can make a short list: wow that’s a lot of trash piled up over there, that graffiti looks kind of pretty, moving backwards is strange. Maybe these thoughts are abnormal sounding, but if I said I was sitting on a train right now that is taking me from Fullerton to Los Angeles Union Station, through the back side of the industrial district things might make a bit more sense.

I want to take a tour of my mind, you are welcome to come along with me maybe we will both discover something. Wouldn’t it be sad, however, if I cannot discover anything if what I am writing comes from my own imagination; if it is created and made up mealy of things I was already thinking. I do not believe so, but I suppose it is a possibility.

I open my eyes, but they are not my own, I have left my body, a fleshless mass floating in a labyrinth of walls and dim light. The walls are lined with doors no two alike, some left open ajar letting light flood into the hallway, others opened wide and seeming to steal the my light. I turn to the first door on my left and trace what I feel should be my fingers over the intricate silver handle. It’s cold and solid, even without a solid body I cannot push through it, but it does turn down until I hear a click. The door instantly swings away from me. Before me I see a girl sitting in a room that seems to come straight out of the late twenties. Her dress is black and white, hair long and tangled, books lining the walls spoons hanging from the ceiling and a pocket watch hanging on the wall as if it were a clock. I smile at her and she waves to me and says hi. I realize for the first time I have a body but it is not the same as I remembered, I too look as if I am from the 1920s, I take in a deep breath before saying goodbye to my friend and leaving her to her books and fairy tales.

Once in the hallway again my body is lost and I float to another door, this one is covered with hand drawn pictures of animals, when I open it all color is void and everything is as a manga. I speak to try and find where I have entered and a speech bubble appears above my head, no sound. Out from the shadows steps a short girl holding a guys hand. I run over to her and give her a hug. I turn towards the door and a speech bubble appears above my head with the words “bye sissy” in black ink inside.

Back in the hallway it suddenly shifts. The floor drops from under me and I fall doors shuffle themselves along the walls and I hit the floor. Plush carpet feels warm but it still feels as if I was punched in the gut. I look around and I am surrounded by steel doors with hinges welded closed. I glide down the hallway following the twists and turns until I find a door that is wide open. I peer inside and cannot see anything, an ominous feeling sweeps over me I want to scream but I cannot speak. My head might split and my stomach is fighting to keep from being dizzy inside a washing machine. It loses, and I feel engulfed by the darkness. I have been sucked into my worst nightmares memories attacking me, picking at flesh I didn’t realize came back. Translucent shells of friends and family I once spent time with sit crying against the walls, I push towards the light, skin burning, feet feeling as if walking on glass, freedom. I try to close the door behind me but it’s impossible, I suppose some things cannot be undone, or forgotten.

I wander down hallways, looking for something different, safe, and I see an archway, no it’s a glass door outside. The beach, Huntington Beach pier, with the red roofed Rubies sitting at the end. I push it open and a breeze laced with the scent of saltwater nearly knocks me over. I sit in the sand and watch myself being carried by a wave on a boogie board. Suddenly I disappear under the water, I resurface coughing and laughing. A friend of mine stands on the shore and laughs too running out to me to make sure I didn’t get hurt. Back in the hallway I enter another room and find myself at the top of Yosemite falls looking down at the foaming water. Songs are playing filling my ears, jokes fly through my head and I see myself climbing with my friends from school.

I walk back to the hallway and see another door, half clear, half stained oak. I push it open and my jaw drops. I am at the edge of a floating landmass looking over an ocean to the shore. Not far off the shoreline is a forest half burned down. I turn around and see the city from the landmass looks in panic. People screamed and ran around not even noticing me. A few times a wing whisked by my face and I stumbled, afraid it might knock me off the ledge. Sometimes feathers of different colors fluttered to my feet. I close my eyes, I didn’t want to see this, pieces of my story that haven’t been written are no supposed to come alive before my eyes. I stumbled out of the room and closed the door behind me, the latch must have broken because it kept swinging back open. The door over is covered in hand written papers. I throw it open and step into a room filled with typewriters, computers, and papers. I read one of them and smile, then put them in piles on a desk each with a different label. Once finished I sigh in relief and leave the room. In the hallway I paint a blue heart on the doorknob, these are my stories, the center of my mind. I sit on the floor and close my eyes tight.

The tour is now over, and we have just seen how my mind has many rooms of different shapes and size, windows viewing scenery that is not there and some with no windows at all. Doors of all sizes and patterns leading to places physics cannot explain, some rooms are plain and others are empty, waiting to be filled. Each room contains a single place I have been, people I have met, places I may go, places I wish existed, some even paradoxical, and occasionally, some people whose bodies are empowered only by written worlds.


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