Just imagine yourself walking through your usual universe one day when you notice something out of the corner of your eye. You look over, but you can't quite put your finger on it. You keep walking, but now you're watching. There! It just moved again! In a flash you jump around to peer into your shadow, but alas, it is faster. Warily, you move on. Everything to your left seems slightly closer than it should be, but you remind yourself of the hard shift you just finished. It moves again; you start walking faster. The discomfort builds; you go faster. You look down at your feet, but they are barely moving forward. The sidewalk is receding beneath you, but you stay put. As you strain to run faster than ever before, you look at the distance to the bridge. You are pounding, your heart is pounding, your feet are pounding, your head is pounding. The last block stretches out into seemingly endless miles. The sides of your universe, centered around you, are coming closer now, squeezing in. There's no way out. You run. You run faster still. You fly.
Then, it ends.
The doctor comes up and thanks your for your participation in such a valuable study on sleep and dreams. Despite your eight hours of sleep, you are exhausted. Walking along the riverside to get back home, you reflect on what happened at the clinic. Absorbed in thought you barely notice something out of the corner of your eye, but you can't quite put your finger on it ...
[Image taken in Tempe, Arizona with a Nikon D90.]
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