The Mist of Not Knowing

Sometimes all of this shimmers on the edge of being a world. It emerges out of the mists of my existence edge-on. As though all I need to do is, somehow, turn it towards me and I will have a world again.

There is no time here. There is no space.

All I have is this white mist that surrounds me like… like a fog. There is no direction, no way to move. I can move my body, but the mist doesn’t alter or change. I can’t tell if I am walking somewhere, or just moving in place. I can turn and turn again and yet everything in every direction – if there are directions – remains the same.

There is me. There is the mist, and that is all.

Until… until I don’t know how long ago, I was beginning to doubt that I exist too. There is no way of knowing time here or even if time exists. This body I have, what I can see of it, looks much as my body always has done and it feels like It always has done. But I know it could be an illusion, just as the mist could be an illusion.

Perhaps I am just a disembodied mind and this is all my invention, although, that doesn’t say much for my powers of imagination. If this were all an illusion then surely I could have come up with something better than this.

I wonder if this is real, or perhaps if the real exists somewhere else. Perhaps I’ve been in an accident of some kind and this is what it is like inside unconsciousness, or in a coma.

Then this thing appeared out of the mists some time ago, not too long ago. Like a thin sheet of something seen edge on.

It tries to keep that thin edge next to me, no matter how I try to move around to see more of it. I have caught glimpses, bits of cloudy sky, the shape of buildings, even people moving. It is like the thinnest-ever flat screen TV seen from the side. Occasionally, I can shift to glance at the screen, see what is on it, but each time the screen shifts back to revealing only its edge to me.

Somehow, I don’t know how, I understand that if I can get to stand in front of that screen, see the world it reveals to me on that display, then I can step through it and get back to the world I know. The only thing I don’t know is how to get that screen to stay still, facing me, long enough for me to get home through it.

Published by David Hadley

A Bloke. Occasionally points at ducks.

2 thoughts on “The Mist of Not Knowing

  1. I live with brain fog (due to ME/CFS). I just got sick on top of that, with some bug. After a week of that, I didn’t even feel human. It’s really hard to write that way.

    I’m better today. Hope you are, too.


    1. I imagine it must be difficult to write when not well.

      I just have a fascination with parallel worlds, and dreams and the merging of the two. This is one of the themes that comes up frequently in my non-funny stuff.


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