After three hours sleep, hearty breakfasting and launching to the coach station, i began my northbound journey, leaving my brother and grand swindonian times behind. Drifting in, out, and around sleep whilst coach travelling differs much from travelling on trains or planes but is probably more similar to car travel. That confined warm, secure space you have. all but cocooned. You are warm and a little weary, everything around you softens, sometimes fading, becoming indistinct and distant. Sometimes snapping back into focus and drifting away again instantly. Night travel ofcourse increasing this floating feeling. The second leg of my northern bound journey from loondoon was all the more ‘floaty’ for want of a better phrase. Despite drinking a flask of strong tea I was drifting again within minutes, not being able to read more than a few lines of my book without my head lilting forward. But how psycological is this experience.
So clearly on the edge of sleep I put my book away, pull my thick coat as high as my head and lean into it ready to drift-off. At which point you don’t for reasons just slightly out of my grasp. After some time has passed you do but not easily as whilst slightly slumped trying to focus on the words in front of me. The shifting from the comfortable spot that you have settled into so completely and fully probably the key factor.
That limbo like area of sleeping awake, dreaming that merges with the present, sounds and feeling moving through the real and the felt of subconscious-ness. Exceedingly difficult to create but wholly wondrous to experience. Absolutely and individually unique, probably the reason it so tricky to describe so perfectly. But fun trying and remembering.
a shout to the dinosaur in the moon, fred-oh that cheeky fred, the easy confusion of sexuality and plushtix.
Brought to you by-
The usual cups o‘tea,
Kafka-investigations of a dog,
Alien and aliens
elrossiter x x x x x x
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