05 Under Pressure

          I felt compressed, as if the air was thick and pressurized. I also felt tired. Not the kind of tired you get waking up from a nap, but the kind of tired you get from taking a kill-yourself-now yoga class, then staying up all night. I also feel empty. The space around me is empty, my insides feel empty, and... I... well... I can't move. Ohh. That's a problem. Well, then what can I do? I can... let's see. Ah-ha! I can move my eyes, look around and stuff. There seems to be a clear plastic rectangle thing I can look out of. It's kinda foggy; I can't make any definitive shapes out. It's all blurs. Maybe if I could move my hand, I could clear the frost or fog or whatever away. I tried to locate my hand with my brain, just on an almost subconscious level, moving my energy/awareness from my eyes down my spinal cord and to the right down my arm, etc. But I couldn't. I couldn't move or feel, or anything other that seeing. I tried to look at my hand, to see what was wrong, and I'm in a box. A really tiny box. There's no way I could fit in here. I sarcastically amused the thought of just being a head.

          Then, a shape emerged from the fog. It's a circle-kind-of, with brown on top, I think? It just kind of floats there peacefully for a moment. Then it gets closer and bigger, and I can see it's supposed to be a face. I can tell it's not superficial; it's a real person. It's a he, I think. I can see him using his mouth to form words, but if I can hear them at all, it's extremely muddled and dampened.

          I felt like I was in a trance, almost (but not quite) daydreaming. I could wake up if I really wanted to, but I was so drowsy. I realized how perfectly quiet it was. Then I heard in the distance “tell me” over and over again “tell me, tell me, tell me!” Tell me? Tell me what? Tell me what? It was my mom's voice! Tell me what?! I broke through the barrier keeping me dormant and yelled “What?!” but it came out as a mumble. I was laying in bed. My mom looked like she had been crying, and Kate's mom Dr. Netni was next to her. They looked at me. I looked back, confused. Then, Dr. Netni said “Narrie, I'm so glad you decided to join us”

          What followed was their telling me what happened from their perspective. I won't tell what happened in detail. All I want to say is that it was like one of those cupcakes with the two-times-as-big-as-the-cupcake frosting that doesn't even taste good. The cupcake being what happened, and the overpowering frosting being the emotional embroidery; the story was near incomprehensible.

          Regardless... a good while later, I find myself browsing the Internet, and I find an invitation from Evelyn T.; Who? Oh, that's Ms. Tirofog. I've mentioned her before, right? We call her Ms. T. I don't think I've told you much about her. She's very original, very unconventional. She can be both caring and sentimental, or abrupt, straight forward and childish. Over all, a good person to put trust into, to talk to"for most people. I'm too shy, kind of. She's like the... 'popular teacher'? And a bunch of people hang out with her during lunch and so fourth. And, there's this thing that says teacher's can't connect with their students via inter-webs, I think? Well, she really ignores that rule. Her... 'thing' is to have parties. If you don't know her, and just hear about her, she sounds really creepy, but, take it from judgmental me, she's a really sweet, caring, albeit childish lady.

          Anyway, I received this invitation to one of her parties; it's the first one of the year. There's always a theme, and this time, it's “Fishing for Rockers” hm... * click * and, oh, not rockers like chairs, rockers as in rock stars... hm * click *, she's going to have a live band, maybe? And she's renting out this used-to-be-an-apartment building? And there'll be a bunch of rocker posters... and they'll be suspended on fishing poles? Not fishing poles... * click * they're some kind of stick that is pointy on one end (for sticking in the ground?), and the middle's curved, and there's a curvy...swoop type of thing on the other side. hm... and who has conformed their arrival? * click * hm... I don't know... I'll ask my peeps tomorrow, or something.

Author's Note

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