The Station, Part 37

Water! It’s ice cold and wonderful! I’ve drunk my fill for now, and gotten a chill for my trouble. But I don’t care. As I lay here in the soft moss near the small stream, I’m looking at my slightly distended belly which makes a gurgling sound any time I move. I probably shouldn’t have gulped it down like I did, but after having tolerated the horrible moisture derived from those roots, this water here, so cold and so pure, is impossible to resist. Blame my lack of restraint on deprivation.

While I wait for my stomach to settle I’m taking a real hard look at my new hands. The sixth fingers are longer than the pinkys now. I guess being on the end makes these new fingers the pinkys then, doesn’t it? They’re fully formed, nails and all. Still feels a little strange, but it now looks as if they have always been there. Almost normal. The rest of each hand has changed structure to accommodate. The palm is slightly wider and the rest of the fingers have shifted and thinned. In fact, my hands look more suited for the trees now; the long fingers would be great for swinging in the trees. All I need now are the overly long arms and I’d be set.

I’m so thin now. Even distended, my belly is all but gone. My arms and legs have thinned out to the point that I almost don’t recognize them as my own. And yet after my initial panic at these changes, the more pronounced they’ve become. The calmer and more interested I’ve become. You could say that I almost look forward to what’s coming next. What new features I may sprout in the coming days. No, it’s more than casual interest—this is the beginnings of genuine anticipation.

I haven’t had any of my incredibly vivid sleep lessons. That’s what I’ve come to know them as. Because they aren’t dreams, these visions of inhabiting exotic forms and sensing through foreign organs. They only come through my unconscious, while my mind is more receptive to influence. When I sleep I learn a little more about this place. Some is right there at the surface after I wake. More is buried beneath I think, in the subconscious, waiting for it time to rise. I get hints of this at various times. When I have feelings that are incongruent with my circumstances. The gain of a finger and the loss of a toe for example. And the overriding compulsion to eat strange fruits that common sense should tell me to steer clear. It has direction and purpose, and is not a random collection of abnormal behaviors. Even just minutes ago, when I dipped my face directly into the cold stream to drink, I could feel the push to do so. The hidden instruction was given; the thirst was already there to reinforce the directive. And today, as realization has come over me of this invisible teacher, guide, driver, whatever you want to call it, I have felt better for it. I’m not as lost, not as nearly confused, just more interested in what purpose this place has for me. I plan on sleeping here. I’m not nearly as tired as I think I would normally be, considering all the walking I’ve done and the lack of a substantial meal. More bodily changes I’m ever more aware of. But if I just clear my head, and stare at that blue sky, I’ll make it happen. And this time I’ll be expecting to take another one of those incredible trips. Let my next sleep lesson begin.