I am sitting in a train carriage. The windows are stained an orangey colour, possibly due to rusty water trapped inside them. It is sunny outside, although the dirty windows make it impossible to see anything in any detail. The train is moving.
Sitting opposite me a heavily-built man is engrossed in the Daily Sport newspaper. His broad, meaty face is impassive as he surveys page after page. Beads of sweat stand out on his forehead.
I find myself staring in fascination at his neck, at the way it bulges out over his collar, its angry red colouration…
He must be a redneck I think to myself stupidly. I know that he is aware of my gaze yet I cannot seem to tear my eyes away. I can’t help staring. It is as if I am trapped in a bubble of slow motion time – part of me wants desperately to get out of this situation while the rest of me remains in a state of stupefied fascination. The man slowly puts down the newspaper and punches me with hammer-like force in the face.
Pain blots out my vision…
I’m in a sort of cubbyhole, or pigeon-hole maybe, on the edge of reality. As usual I am spending the time staring at the walls of my cubbyhole – there’s nothing much else to do. I’ve been looking at these walls so long I no longer know what I am looking at any more. Most of the time I don’t even know if I am looking at all. Maybe I only think I’m looking.
Then suddenly I find myself looking into the profound immensity of infinite space! It is hard to focus on – the closer I look the more there is to see, and yet there is nothing to see. It is blue in colour with white bits slowly moving. At first I am convinced that it is the mighty ocean, seen from a great height; later on it becomes apparent that I am staring up at the sky. The white bits are wisps of clouds. The breadth of vision is breath taking. It is so peaceful, vast and complete. It is Reality I think. That’s what it is. I remember now.
In my excitement some shift takes place and I am gazing at the walls of my cubbyhole again – my cubbyhole in Reality…