This blog contains original content by JB Knibbs:
geek | feminist | book-addict | enjoys glueing things to face
Knibbs reblogs light and art inspiration over at Luminary Studies.
Day 195 of 365
Dizzy, limbs getting pins and needles. Afterwards, Lucy said “When you start feeling tingly, that’s when you need to sit down.”
“Do you want to sit down?”
“Yes… I do.”
Vision turning to black and grey. Losing resolution.
“Hey,” I say, “I know it’s dark out here, but it’s not *that* dark.”
It’s like looking at the feed from an infrared camera but zoomed in too far. Pixelated vision turns into splotchy shapes in grey. “Woah… low res.”
Apparently I didn’t quite make it down. Instead, I turned rigid, stiff, and Ren helped me to the ground.
Daydreaming into darkness. The feeling (hallucination? dream?) of being on a wooden rollercoaster in a dark tunnel. Going fast, breakneck speed, head pounding, blood pumping.
Eyes open, a sudden intake of breath. Waking up from a deep dream. Disorientation, confusion. How long was I daydreaming for? Did I fall asleep?
“Breath. Just breathe. In…. out…” It’s hard to, but I do what I’m told and I’m reassured.
“You’re ok, you’re ok.”
Exaggerated breathing sounds, like gas masks in films. My breathing? …Did someone call a medic? There are people leaning over me.
“Breathe… 1…. 2…. It’s fine. This used to happen to me.”
My left hand is being squeezed and I now recognise Ren. She looks concerned and is tightly squeezing my hand. My right arm is crossed over my chest. I wonder if I’ve been put in the recovery position – oh, how thoughtful. It takes another moment to realise it isn’t quite right.
“Breathe.” The voice I’ve been hearing is Lucy’s, not a medic’s. “You’re ok. Breathe.”
My ears still feel blocked, like I’d been underwater. Pressure. Vision, recognition. Grey gradually turns back into colour, sort of. Muted night colours, and faces.
“What the fuck was… that?” My breath is starting to return to normal
“Shh you’re ok.”
I close my eyes and suddenly there are tears, sobs, my make-up running. Others approach and are told to walk away “Is she ok?”
“What is it? What are you feeling?”
“Just… a physiological reaction. I think maybe… shock.” I’ve always liked the word ‘physiological’. I actually can’t tell if it was shock or perhaps a few supressed feelings being triggered and released.
Ren, ever thoughtful, wipes my face so I don’t look too much like an Alice Cooper fan. I make a joke or a few or an attempt or maybe I just imagined I did.
“Can you sit up?”
“I think so.”
Hands on my back, and then the two of them help me stand. My limbs are still tingling as though I’ve woken up with both arms under my pillow again. The tingling is in my chest too, but I’m breathing, seeing, talking again. They said later that all of this took less than five minutes.
“This used to happen to me all the time.”
Vivid Theme by JoachimT Powered by Tumblr