After at least 4 or 5 minutes of this, the owl then, with an air of utter calm, smiled at me.
I didn’t know if I was frightened or intrigued, because this animal wasn’t just staring at me, it seemed to be staring relentlessly into me. It was very large, and almost immaculately white.įor the longest time, I was paralyzed, staring into it’s crimson, saucer-like eyes. Not a screech owl or a spotted owl, but more of a barn owl if I had to guess. What I saw was the visage of an owl, sitting on a tree branch.
My instincts directed my attention to my bedroom window, to which, almost in a trance, I then walked to and peered out of. It was the kind of inherent awareness one would experience in a dream, only this wasn’t a dream. A warm, throbbing, almost painful sensation came over me almost like an external source of nerve stimuli, boldly yet calmly letting me know that I wasn’t alone. Suddenly and all at once, I was aware of a presence. Throwing the lemon juice to the ground, I went back into my bedroom. Frustratingly enough, the liquid glided over the plaque on my tongue like a protective film, never even touching my taste buds. The best option I found was lemon juice, and began downing it like water. Opening the cabinets one by one, I had my mind set on finding something to cut through this terrible flavor. Confused, I then brushed my tongue and teeth to eliminate the taste, to no avail.īeginning to become restless, I then went into the kitchen. Looking in the mirror, I opened my mouth in hopes of identifying the source of the taste, only to find that my tongue was covered in white gunk almost like plaque. My bare feet touched the cold, hard ground of my new studio apartment, and I walked past my bedroom window and into the bathroom.
The closest thing I could compare it to, would be the aftertaste of cheap rum mixed with some form of liquified candy corn. This taste was very abrasive and unusual not bitter, but sickly sweet, making me want to vomit. When I say this taste in my mouth was terrible, I don’t mean that standard gopher shit breath every middle aged man has when he wakes up. My hour and a half of sleep had seemed infinity longer than that, filled with twists and turns of the subconscious dream state. Having gone to bed at 1:17 am, it was now only 2:47 am. With a terrible taste in my mouth, I awoke from a slumber that seemed so deep I would never emerge.
0 kommentar(er)
