I had the weirdest experience last week on the way home from work, no not breaking down again. This was less common than running out of fuel. This is so strange I’m not entirely sure whether I should post this, in fact this is probably the only time I’m hoping I DON’T get pressed!
I was driving and thinking as I do, when I had an epiphany (or delusion, you decide.) that my body was merely a frame and that I exist within the frame and not within the world outside it. My body exists within the world outside, but I exist only within my body. And that everything I call life is merely experienced via interactions with this frame. Does that make any sense? I for maybe a part of a second kind of went inside myself and felt a surge of panic ladened claustrophobia. I was trying to explain this to my wife, who looked at me as though she were in a film, deciding whether to hug the lead who had just so brutally massacred a gang of street robbers, using only his bare hands and teeth, or get out her pepper spray and run for her life! Anyway the best explanation I could come up with, was to say that everyday life is like looking through a keyhole. You see the other side of the door and that is your entire perspective. I for a split of a split second stepped back from the hole and looked at the door and its room; a dark, windowless, cupboard of a room!
Am I going mad, or has anyone else experienced anything like this? Or am I just going mad? Should I get my wife to handcuff me to the radiator, while she runs for help? In any case, I think I might use this in my novel.