"You know, all this talk we are talking? It's like the sunshine and the rain. It's present or not, but when it is present it soaks and warms and disappears. Nevertheless, the nourishing effect of it lasts and shows continually."
Somewhere between waking and sleeping on our journey towards the unfathomable deep, there comes a thin moment where we have one foot in the waking world and the other is in that other world where we relinquish conscious control.
Pausing here and straddled between two planets that drive one another like gears, the attentive traveler will notice a narrow door only wide enough to sidle through.
This is the border of sleep, where imagination and reality are braided together, a chasm in the crust of consciousness, venting the hot pumice of imagery into the irresistible magma of narrative.
Welcome to episode 44 of Stories from the Borders of Sleep, a semi regular podcast of curious tales from bordersofsleep.com featuring original stories by your host, Seymour Jacklin.
You can visit bordersofsleep.com for more information, to leave feedback or buy me a coffee.
And you can also find us on Facebook where you can join in the conversation.
The soundtrack on this week's episode is by cellist Hans Christian and his album Undefended Heart, which is available on magnitude.com so if you're ready to journey with me, then I shall begin.
The Librarian by Seymour Jacklin.
You know, all this talk we're talking, it's like the sunshine and the rain.
It's present or not, but when it is present, it soaks and warms and disappears.
Nevertheless, the nourishing effect of it lasts and shows continuously.
The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes were the five poppies in a jar.
They were fresh, very fresh.
Someone else had been here recently.
That's all I registered as I closed my eyes again.
I was no longer in pain.
At least I didn't know if I was.
I did not even try to move.
A simple contentment swept over me in that moment.
I needed nothing more.