Each time I close my eyes - it is an upheaveling storm that is so phosphorescent - so vivid that sleep cannot be accomplished. For once my eyelids are not overpowering by heaviness, but lightness that makes no sense - I wonder if I am conscious. Wavering lines are surging, an ablaze of white-hot, pink-cold are effulgent.

The swirls are like embodiments taking form, something I should not see.

These shapes are constantly metamorphosing in my head and before my eyes. It is too ardent and intense to even think of slumber. I feel as if I am teetering in a whirlwind; and all what I can picture is illuminating, these lights will leave me with no vigor... no strength left. Brain dead.

Beaming fireflies, coiling ripples akin to raindrops, scintillating wings flying in no direction... this is no purpose. It is a reality that spiraled into a hole and all of these colors are lucid, threatening because this is not my world, this is not how I perceived existing.

This confounding picturesque dimension alters - shapes are changing, proportioning differently every second . My home looks like another place that does not belong to me. The walls seep with unknown shapes - and it starts to close in. I can feel my chest compress and I cannot figure out why.

I cannot fathom this world that I have never seen, nor would I ever perceive: and I think this is my first grip of what death feels like.

It is like I have a soul and it is sifting away from me.

Am I dying?

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note: I am not spiritual, nor will I ever be. I don't believe in death, souls or pesky things like that. But for once in my life I actually believed I was dying. Now I'm just laughing about it. No one will ever understand this. It's hard to put it into words but this is all I could come up with.