Blinded by Light.

As I walk in, I take in all the black. My pupils enlarge to accommodate the darkness. I squint, my hand blindly reaches for the switch. I try to focus. It’s too dark to see, to cold to feel. I find myself standing in the darkness for just an instant. This is what blindness must feel like.

A little uneasy now, I search for the switch that’ll end my encounter with blindness, with a renewed desperation. Where is the goddamn light?

I feel wool. And warmth. I go closer to it and a familiar aroma engulfs me. It’s my grandfather’s shawl. I can still smell him on it. It plunges me into memories.

Remembering, and devouring them, I reach out with my hand, my sole guide in the dark. My eyes don’t seem to be adjusting to the darkness as they usually do. Perhaps it’s the Guinness I had.

Reaching under my pillow, my hand recognizes a material different from the rough softness of my bedsheet. Scrambling uncomfortably, I get out of my jeans and slip on the shorts. I slump on the bed. I feel it’s uneven-ness. I’m momentarily puzzled. And then, I remember that my jacket, my jeans, my trackpants from the day..were lying in a heap in the middle of the bed. Cursing myself, I dump them on the floor, and smile longingly as I feel the now smooth surface of the bed.

I’m still pondering over my thought…This is what blindness must feel like. I think of colours, I revel in the memory of brightness, I see faces of loved ones in my buzzing head. My mind conjures beautiful images of beautiful faces, spectacular places and stunning monuments.

I can hear music playing somewhere, cars zipping past on the road that otherwise seems out of earshot. I even hear the edge of the curtains rustling against the wall.

I reach for my bedside drawer, and slip the earrings off my earlobes. They seem heavier in the dark. My palm recognizes the handle, I pull it open. A whiff of Vicks Vaporub fills me.

It’s so strange how when you’re blinded, your other senses are so significantly magnified. The sense of smell, of touch, of hearing.

As I try to set the alarm for tomorrow morning, I find the switch to my bedside lamp.

Click.

Instantly my eyelids recoil into a locked eye-shut. It’s a new kind of blindness. I can feel the harshness of the light, even through tightly closed lids.

I think I preferred the other kind of blindness. It’s so unpleasant to be blinded by light.