An egg stands on the counter beside a sheathed blade. It topples over without rolling and falls next to the blade, leaning against its sheath.
I grab the egg and stuff it into a carton in the refrigerator.
—Not yet, but when the time comes, we’ll use it.
I shove the blade into a drawer and fall into a lake, which has replaced the kitchen floor.
Unable to swim, I flounder and sink to the bottom.
I can’t hold my breath, so I clench my eyes and wait for death.
My concentration, in that moment, establishes silence, darkness.
“I” disappear as pure consciousness takes hold:
Not darkness, but grayness—the end of a gradient cast by a powerful and all-consuming light.
I sense it but I can’t fall into it, so I try, and I break my concentration and open my eyes.
Sitting half-lotus on my bed, I glance around the room.
I amble into the kitchen and open the fridge and the egg pops out of the carton and rolls and shatters, spilling a fetus resembling me onto the floor. (more…)