41: Reimaged

Darby    

There’s this twilight period between sleep and waking, where untethered consciousness warps into the illusionary and hallucinatory thoughts and impressions of dream. The fragmented evolving mindscape of bizarre sounds, abstract landscape, and ephemeral ideas that’s the knife’s edge of lucidity and oblivion. In this place, our meandering cognitive perceptions, odd and out-of-context when dismantled upon waking, seem completely unremarkable and entirely reasonable.

It’s in one of these hypnagogic intrusions into the veiled plane between life and death, while my brain steadily reassembles the strictures with which I interpret the world, that a perfect symphony of low level fragrances—petrichor tinged with moss and vetiver’s fresh, intensely green woodsy-ness—flashes, like a sputtering burst at the