01.10
I had never been homeless before. The immediate experience is something entirely unique. There is an overwhelming sense of freedom from the constraints of property. This countered by an equally unnerving sense of exposure. At least initially it is. It is almost completely dark out and my main concern is where to sleep once night falls. I have been fortunate in finding a place after befriending an older gentleman in a similar situation as myself.
The main difference between us is that he has been homeless for quite some time now. This has however allowed him to aquire a wealth of knowledge about surviving through uncertainty with relative comfort. A knowledge one is unable to gain through any other means than the act of survival itself. He is humble and kind enough to offer me a spot on the floor in one of the vacant rooms he uses around the city. This one in particular he had been recently set up in so furnishings, in the very primitive sense, would be still be available. Ill consider myself lucky to get a cardboard box.
There is about an hour or so left of daylight as I walk down the street towards the location of my temporary home. It is in an abandoned room, in an abandoned hotel, in an abandoned part of town. I have no clue as to how long the area has been this way, only that it is. There are no other people walking about, no parked cars, animals or otherwise traces of life anywhere. Its almost as if this part of the city was once a living being, now long since decayed to nothing but its bones. The skeletal structure of the buildings and streets picked clean like carrion birds, by time and the elements. Everything around is gray and varying shades of. There is little evidence left of the color that once also inhabited the area. What little grass still growing, in what looks to be the remains of a playground I pass, is heavily weeded and equally void of any vibrant green.
After a few blocks I walk up to a large four story building. This one happens to contain the room that my elderly friend had lent me. Its rather plain and rectangular shape matches that of the surrounding buildings. The only feature to its facade would be in the small windows of its units recessed into the bricks. I enter into the dark interior of the building and find it rather confusing how small it is, given the size of the structure from the outside. The hallways are very narrow and seem to get smaller as I move further in. I head towards the nearest staircase and up four flights of stairs to the floor where my room awaits. There is nothing significant or noteworthy about the stairs, other than they share the same compacted quality as the hallways.
The room is surprisingly spacious. It could possibly be an illusion magnified by the tiny hallways, or the lack of any furnishings. Floors, walls, ceiling and windows, pretty basic room in every sense. Other than a single mattress in the corner, the room is completely bare. From the looks of it, the mattress is quite old and well used. Its worn fabric covering is discolored from ancient stains and parts of it have apparently served as dinner to something at some point. Stuffing, stitching, and springs hang like entrails from the small holes in its side. Still, it is a good mattress and im in no position to be concerned with aesthetics. Its also much more preferable to the alternative of the hard and dusty wood floor.
As I finally lie down, night completely takes over. I notice it is strangely darker than im used to. I was not expecting streetlights to be working, however there is no illumination of any kind, not even moonlight. I wait for a moment and try to let my eyes adjust to the dark. Nothing seems to be happening. I close my eyes briefly only to open them again to darkness. I think I have gone blind somehow. It is different when your eyes are open and you sit in darkness, no reference to your surroundings. It is more disorienting as your eyes struggle for any visual clues, any amount of light to work with. Still, I look around for anything that might help. I look towards where the windows should be and see nothing but black. I look to my sides, hoping to see the walls looking back, nothing. I hold my hand up to my face, waving to myself, greeted only to more of the void. After a short time I give up, bringing my eyes to rest in a forward position, where I imagine the ceiling should be directly overhead, still nothing. Guess the nights are just really dark in this part of town. Taking a moment to settle in, I find that the loss of vision has caused my other senses to heighten. It is only slight at first but slowly amplifies as I start to relax.
I listen to the wind blowing down the street outside, catching leaves and refuse in its path, swatting at litter on the pavement like a cat at play. I can hear the air now, moving around the room, pushing the accumulated dust across the floor like snow drifts over the plains. Instinctively my eyes trace the sound of airflow, as if drawing a tangible path of light. I can hear my own breath in front of me as I exhale…….inhale…..it echos through my nose into my lungs, like yelling into a deep cave in the earth.
I listen to my heartbeat, traveling there on the back of my breath. I hear its steady cadence as it sends blood through my body. I can feel the vessels traveling together to the extremities and back again to the point of origin. I feel my ears expanding and contracting, a sensation of heat.
I listen to the room around me. I can hear subtle creaking, individual boards of the wooden floor talking to each other. I hear the rumbling sigh of the walls shifting and settling into place. My eyes search about again as the windows rattle in their frames as if impatiently tapping their fingers. I can feel them each individually, as part of the room, the greater whole of the building as if in my own body, stretching muscles and bones to find a comfortable position to sleep.
I can feel myself, the breath and beat inside me. I can feel my surroundings and listen as sounds give shape to the darkness. I can feel myself in the vacant structure, feel myself in the room, feel the rooms around me and the floors below. I can feel it as something else enters the building. The pressure in the air changes slightly as it crosses the threshold into the narrow hallways. I hear it as it begins to ascend the stairs.
Its footsteps creak and squeal as it slowly moves from one wooden step to another. The sound is getting louder now and the pace faster. There is an irregularity in its pattern, possibly an acoustical side effect of the narrow hallways. I wonder if it could be more than one of them. Louder now, floorboards cry out as if some great mass tread across them. I can feel it still, on its way through the stairwell, reaching the top floor where I lie.
I call out to my old friend and the footsteps stop immediately. I suspect its him as no one else would have known of this abandoned place. I wait momentarily for his reply. I wait. I wait. No response. The footsteps continue. I call out again for my friend, desperation leaking its way into the forefront of my being. The footsteps do not stop. There is still no reply.
It is in the adjacent room now. I dont bother calling out anymore. I know its not my friend. I want to get up, look for some light, something to identify whatever is approaching, but I cant move. I want to get up but I am paralyzed, muscles are not working. I am left with only the sounds and sensations of the world around me. I am left in the dark and my eyes are wide open, terrified. The footsteps fall silent, no more sounds, only the resonance of my breath, each one taken deep as if it were my last. I feel the pressure change again as the thing enters the room. I can feel it as it moves in next to me, rough skin brushing my arm. It stops now and the room seems to be filled with the mass of this creature. I feel like I have been hung from bough of some great tree, swinging slightly, scraping against the bark of its massive trunk. This thought is shattered as its body begins to move again, starting to wind itself around mine. The coarseness of its skin now feels more uniform, much like the scales of a giant snake or the dragons of lore. There are scales and weight all over me now, coiling further around my motionless body, raking across my legs, further up my shoulders and neck. With the size of the creature I would be unable to move even if I could.
It is getting harder to breathe as it winds tighter and tighter. Its form is all that I can feel, no more room, building or street. There is only this creature and myself held in its center. I am so frightened, feeling more constricted and suffocated by the second. All I can do is struggle for breath, eyes frantically looking around for some way out, something to help. I see nothing but darkness.
I am forced to hear again, my heart pounding in my chest, blood pumping through my head. I am forced to feel again, the weight of the monstrous creature surrounding me, how insignificant I am compared to it. I hear the scales scrape one another and fpull at my flesh. I hear myself screaming so loud inside, mouth unable to move. I am becoming so confused, overwhelmed, senses overloaded, the dark, the blindness. I close my eyes and become so tense I could possibly shatter. I am forced to feel so much, unable to run from it, I lose consciousness. I cant hear anymore, I cant feel anymore. My vision is slowly regained and I try to focus in on my surroundings. I am relieved to find myself in another place, another room, another reality. I sit for a moment, the fear slowly washing away, the abandoned room and creature a fading memory. But I cant forget.
I realize too late what happened and start to experience some regret. Its too late for me to go back, at least not anytime soon. Having never experienced anything like that before, the loss of vision, paralysis, terror is of course understandable. I understand now there was no reason to be scared, there was no real danger. I wish I could go back and thank the creature. I want to go back and be able to embrace it the way it did me. I want to thank it for teaching me how to really hear. Listening to the environment, the subtle sounds that define spaces both internal and external. I want to thank it for teaching me how to really feel. Noticing the various changes in the air, the process of my functioning body and surroundings as a natural extension. I want to thank it for closing my eyes and teaching me how to see.
2010. 01. 10