The Time it Takes to Smoke a Cigarette-Part 1-The blue gray smoke

3 part story derived from an excerpt of daydreams I had in my youth

Here, there, everywhere, nowhere-it really doesn't matter. I have absolutely no recollection of the goings on last night. The caffeine surging through my veins was of no help, neither was the nicotine. The blue-grayish smoke escaping from my Lucky Strike began to paint a picture for me. It was no memory or daydream-it was realty. Although, at this point in time, I was not really sure if I knew what reality is. The clouds lift and I see a two top table occupied by two faceless women and the possible outline of a male. I was somehow in a lounge, air thick with smoke and a heavy scent of booze and cheap aftershave. There were two cocktails and a beer sitting on the table and due to the dim light, I couldn't make out any other details. I had been trying to make out the inaudible conversations that were floating to and from over the jazz playing in the background. Everything was saturated between carpeted walls. The biggest struggle was figuring out what I was here for or why. There is no connection. Then...movement! A man placing, what I assume, is a check on the table. The two women rise and head to the powder room together. It was at this time that my attention was averted to the painting on the wall. It was extremely strange in its application to my vision. It had a white background with a large, black blotch directly in the middle. It reminded me of my psychologists' flash cards. I made no guess as to what I could see in it, for I saw absolutely nothing. I did, however, feel an eerie presence about the room. Only I wasn't in a room. When I turned around I noticed that I was a prestigious art gallery. The cold, piercing presence I felt was hundreds of faceless people going about their business. I had no feelings of terror but beamed with curiosity and awe. So, soaking in my own sweat, I began walking endless halls of faceless people. This was madness! And I knew it wasn't real, but this fabrication of illusions, from God knows where, leads me to believe otherwise. Th hallway I was now in became intensely warm and I swear I saw a man with one eye. I began pondering the idea that he might be a clue out of this nightmare. I ran after him only to have vertigo tackle me and try to bring me down. I struggled and was able to reach him. I touched his shoulder and recoiled as I burnt my finger. My burnt fingertip and the coffee I spilled in my lap startled me and I realized I was late for work again.

Reviews

[Nathan Spark]

I like this. More please. Kind of wish there were paragraphs to create breaks for lazy eyes like mine.

[Samuel Dickens]

This is quite a detailed and well-written remembering of long ago daydreams. Does it make sense to you? I can only recall one dream, not daydream, from my youth with any detail.

[Jeff]

I'm not sure any of my old writing makes any sense. Or course this was nearly 20 years ago so my mind was way different. The latter two parts to this are quite graphic but interesting enough. I shall post them soon.