Nov. 10, 2003 - 20:27 MST

THE WONDERING JEW

A Haze Of Fog

There are times, maybe my mind wants to slope off into the sunset that things become a bit unreal. The feeling that maybe the sunset is in the wrong part of the sky perhaps. Most everyone seems to be going through their daily motions, but which don't seem to make any sense.

Then I wonder, "Am I coming down with something ?" "Huh, no temperature, no upset physically. So whassa matta ol' boy ?"

Boredom is not the answer really, I guess one might say a perturbed perception of things of the world tonight. Halloween is over, grisly, ghostly things are gone for the year now.

It is almost like some of the paintings and pictures I have seen now and then. If I look at them long enough I can see the animals, hidden and appearing to my prying eye, and the eyes of curious others. There is an artist who makes pictures that appear to be trees in a western forest, but if one looks long enough Indians are observed among the trees, some on horses, some afoot. Yet, changing back to tree limbs, trunks and leaves, then shape shifting back into Indians and horses again. Optical illusion or clever artistry or maybe both. The pictures have been out of my price range, but I would have one on my wall if it were possible.

I know that sleep eluded me last night, maybe got 3 hours waking up now and then and then woke up later and couldn't lay back down and drift off to sleep again. Maybe that is the answer. Its the kind of night that I would not be surprised to see my deceased uncle walk out of a wall and engage me in conversation. Unreal but not frightening. Other than the fact that I might have gone stark, raving, bonkers. And that doesn't seem to bother me either, if it comes - it comes.

Are there parallel worlds wherein I am the same guy in another world at the same time I am me, here ? I don't know. Am I in a place where reality and unreality merge ? Maybe. Am I on a drug or drugs ? No. My mind it seems is taking a slight vacation and wandering off into never land.

Much like wandering around in a town well known to me, but stumbling through A Haze Of Fog . . . . . . . . . . . .

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