The story challenge was to sit for 5-10 minutes and not think of anything, then write about what you are not thinking of. I accepted the challenge.
Nothing to Think Of
My eyes slowly closed, and darkness enclosed me. Did you ever try not to think of anything and make your mind blank? I try to do that every night, and this is what happens.
Since the room is dark, I really don’t need to close my eyes, but I do anyway. With my eyes closed, I open my mind’s eye, meaning I try to see what I can through my closed lids. Surprisingly, I see a lot.
The first thing I notice is that I can depict movement in front of me. If I wave a hand in front of my face, I can distinguish not only the movement but also what’s moving (my hand). I can tell how many fingers I’m holding up. Of course, my brain already knows how many fingers I’m holding up, so it might be signaling the correct answer.
Next I notice a flash of color. Sometimes red, sometimes green, sometimes blue, and more often than not, yellow. These flashes move like amoebas. Globules of light that grow and shrink, sometimes sharp in color, other times translucent, letting you see through them and almost recognize what lies behind—potential portals to another place.
If they are portals, I imagine that if I look deep enough, I will be able to interact with those that came before. I can ask my parents questions about where they grew up, tell them about my life now, and assure them that I have done well. Maybe connect with my sister and half-brother and find out how they are doing now, letting them all know that their memories are not lost. I never miss an opportunity, should there be portals, to reach in and make that contact. There are so many words left unsaid.
When those flashes diminish, the other objects appear. Things I know are not where I am. It might be a door or statue. They are often tunnels and caverns made up of patterned quilts or striated paneled wood. I move through them slowly, admiring the materials they are made from.
The background noise is an infinite white-noise hiss that my tinnitus shares with wherever my mind is taking me. Personally, I would prefer soft music.
This is not a made-up fairy tale nor a dream. I am wide awake and purposely seeking out these visions. It is what happens to me when I close my eyes and try not to think of anything, both when I start to go to sleep at night and right now, when I was asked to not think of anything for 5 minutes.
Point of information – My wife is getting tired of me commenting to her each night, as we turn off the light, “I wonder what color it will be tonight.”
If she could only see.
