interstellar jinn I

The room spinning, the chair impossibly here, and there, and there, and there. Each second, it is in a different place, as is the bed. Each second, there are varying intensities of light streaming in through the windows, soft radiance of the dawn sun, enveloping darkness of the night, warm glow of the evening, bright glare of noon. Different degrees of dust. I close my eyes, the feeling remains. It stops. I can tell. The room is not spinning. This is not a seizure. I can tell. I’ve had one of those. With those, you can’t tell you’re seizing. One second, you’re in your chair, the next, you’re wearing a too-loose gown and staring up at characterless white ceilings. Indifferent bulbs. This is not a seizure. My head is fine. It doesn’t hurt. Maybe I’m delusional. A fly buzzes around. I can feel it. I smack my hands around my left ear. The buzzing stops. I bring them to my face, still closed, open my eyes, and then my palms. It is there. I wring my hands. It falls off. I look up. He is staring at me. I am staring at me. It is me. He shakes his head, eyes confused. He is seeing past me. I have a strange feeling in my head. A throbbing in the back of my brain. I am having an out of body experience. That must be it. The senses here are both dulled and oddly specific. I cannot smell the room, cannot feel the air. It is as if I am in a jelly. It is minimizing certain things, and magnifying others. It is magnifying him. Me. I. He is sitting at his table. He has turned back. He has his headphones on. I walk a step forward. His hands stop moving. He turns around. For a second, it feels like he has seen me. Then his gaze goes blank, as if he is again seeing beyond me. I turn around. Just the portrait of horses. My head hurts louder. He turns back around. Slides his headphones onto his ears. Continues doing what he was. His fingers move a utensil. There is scratching. It is oddly loud. Far too loud. Echoing in my head. I move closer, gingerly. He stops. He doesn’t turn around. Another step. Nothing. A fourth. Nothing. I stand by his right side now. He shivers, and leans, almost imperceptibly, no one could have told, but with my new focused senses, I can, leans towards the left. Just a bit. My head hurts. Something is itching away at my amygdala. I focus on the ears first. I may be hyper aware, but I am slow. As if I am groggy. Drowsy. The sound beating from his ears is familiar. A nausea in my heart. I stop focusing on it. Some tunes start in my head. Something from long- I turn to the desk. The scratching. At first, I cannot make sense of it. Then, a jolt of lightning. I remember.

Danish Aamir