Fuzzy

Fuzzy

The truth is, I never really thought much about my life or work. I had just gone about daily routines and let time take me wherever it chose to go.
And then this morning happened.
I awoke with a peculiar taste lingering in my mouth.
...As if little, tiny buffalo had slept on my tongue overnight...
It was a strange sensation, but it was quickly overshadowed by the realization that I was lying on a beach, with the soothing sound of waves crashing nearby. I raised myself to a sitting position and admired the beauty of the scene despite the haze in my eyes. The sand under my palms felt hot as the morning sun slowly painted the world in golden hues. The sunbeams reflecting on the water were hypnotic, but I had to turn away as my eyes protested the burning exposure.
It was then that I spotted my car resting nearby on the sand, and as I walked toward it, I struggled to recall how I ended up here. A vague memory emerged: I was out drinking last night, and that one cocktail, a secret concoction from my favorite bartender, had cast a spell over me. It was a drink that, while making you crave another, also had the effect of making all other cocktails seem disgusting.
I managed to back the car off the beach and point it toward home, but I still felt light-headed and had a sun-shaped imprint burned into my vision.
The gemlike incandescence of the water mesmerized me while driving to work again. The urge to return to the beach gnawed at me, making it hard to concentrate. I couldn't help but obsess over the water's allure, even though I had passed by it countless times without giving it a second thought.
Days turned into weeks, and my fascination with the water only intensified. On my way home, I'd often stop by the beach and wander down to the shoreline, captivated by the last crimson rays of the setting sun dancing on the water. After a while, the day's fatigue would force me back to my car and eventually home, but the watery sparkle remained etched in my vision, even when my eyes were closed. The obsession consumed me, becoming a daily ritual that took precedence over everything else. Work and sleep were mere brief interludes between my encounters with the water. Each day blended into the next, and my life lost its clarity.
The edges of reality became fuzzy, and nothing seemed to matter anymore. Money, sex, love—all lost their significance. Everything slowed down, and there was no pressure, no sameness. Only the water held my attention, pulling me to its depths. Something about the water beckoned me. There was something IN the water, and gradually, I realized it was Me.
I was in the water.
Swimming. I had been swimming my whole life. Where was I headed? Towards a whirlpool, perhaps? Why not?
I was almost there. It was all around me.
Swirling me around.
Sucking me in.
And down.

And then,
I came out the bottom.
I felt a sharp slap on my butt, and I screamed.
Then I cried... for an eternity.
Until they brought me to my mother.
Where I finally felt warm, and content.
But still.... Fuzzy.



Martin Alan Greene 1996, May

Copyright © 1996 by M. Alan Greene. All Rights Reserved.