Insensible

SUDDENLY THE MATRIX feed stops. . . . Panic descends, everyone in the restaurant cannot hear each other yelling inquiry, nor can they hear the crashes of traffic all over the city. Deaths without feeling begin.

“Am I dead ?” Ulysses wonders of the sudden transition from enjoying scrambled eggs and coffee to disembodied thoughts, insensible. Trying to move only ends in being back on the floor: no balance. After eight hours of sensory deprivation, the usual experience ensues: relaxing, taxing, hallucinating, unhinging.

The world ends rather pleasantly amidst floating geometric truths of the ground of all being and multidimensional destinations.