Saturday, February 25, 2012
At The Dinner Table
Picture if you will a small group of people seated around the dinner table. Everyone is happily engaged in conversation. You smile as the woman sitting across from you describes an amusing story.
Suddenly something seems amiss. You could swear you just saw a ripple or a wave move across the surface of the table. You emote a sort of quiet gasp as you reach for a glass of water. The woman who was talking says, "Are you alright?" You answer with a forced laugh, "Yeah, I'm cool."
You notice that your heart is beginning to pound. You think to yourself, "What the hell...?" Another ripple moves over the table, except this time your eyes watch it intensely as it slowly undulates, lifting up and lowering plates and utensils as it gracefully flows from one end of the table to the other. The noise and chatter of the room is silenced while you watch another wave glide across.
You get the urge to bolt, to flee, to hang on to your dwindling sense of security, but you can't. You're frozen. You eye the entrance to the dining room as a means of escape, but the entrance way begins to simultaneously shrink and slide to the left as it and its connecting walls are sucked like liquid sand into the center of your field of vision.
A thunderous shout shocks you back to reality. Everyone at the table stops talking and turns toward the source of the shout. Incredibly, the table is now beginning to slowly rotate. All the chairs begin to move out and away from the table. The whole scene, the whole room is beginning to pivot around a central point. Astoundingly, the dining room is slowly assuming the shape of a three dimensional wheel.
More shouts are heard. A man sitting close to the table loudly exclaims, "My legs are frozen! I can't move them!" A woman next to him cries out, "I can't move my legs either!" You watch the terrified couple pivot downward as they slowly retreat into the cosmic background. Their frozen legs begin to narrow into organic pipes. You watch as the narrowing process moves up their thighs, up their abdomens, up their chests. Their cries take on a higher and higher pitch as their necks and heads are squeezed into narrowing stalks of metallic flesh.
Everyone at the table, all those who once had life have suddenly become stick figure ghosts embedded in a kind of strange consciousness, still rotating, but slowly evaporating away. The darkened scene, what's left of it, begins to peel backwards in on itself like a carpet rolling up, like the coiled tongue of some hidden serpent.
Suddenly finding yourself outdoors, you stumble out into the street. You see through your eyelids that people are rushing out of their houses. They run up to you with looks of exasperation in their eyes. They try to speak. There's something that they're desperately trying to tell you, something about The Secret. "What Secret?" you shout. But before they can answer, there's a rip in the fabric of existence. The people who desperately wanted to talk to you begin to peel away. The whole neighborhood starts to lift up like a giant three dimensional page slowly flipping over. The people who were trying to talk to you have now transformed into frozen cartoon characters embedded in a flowing membrane-like page.
You're in a different place now. "How did that happen? How can someone just morph from one place to the next?"
A woman holding a cell phone in her hand runs up to you. She screams, "Tell your world we're here before the Operator gets wise to our rebellion!" "Take my phone and text your world we're here!"
You reach for the phone, but before you can grab it, the woman, the phone, the whole scene is rotated away from you like a celluloid wave.