The Corridor.

As I turned into the corridor my perception changed. That strange effect used by so many film makers seemed to stretch the end of the corridor away from me with every step I took. The doors on either side followed the steady slide of the scene that confronted me, and as I tried to adjust, a feeling some what akin to vertigo took hold of my senses. My eyes closed as if by them selves, and I struggled to keep my balance. For it was as if I was walking on some sort of crazy treadmill that as well as varying the speed also produced an effect that can only be compared to walking on jelly.

It was all I could do to keep upright and moving, but as I regained control of my body it became apparent that my mind would not come as easily. My hand had stretched out and I was using the wall to my right to guide my steps. As control of my mind returned, the fear that I had been suppressing all morning came in like a fog rolling up from my stomach. As with pain, it was not so much the fear itself, but the anticipation of that fear that did the damage. And with every passing second and stride, that anticipation turned to dread, and that dread turned to near panic.

I’d thought that I had dealt with this. I’d thought that I had it under control, but the sucker punch had caught me unawares. It felt like I was reeling down the corridor, but my hand, still in touch with the wall told me that I was at least upright and heading in the direction that I had started out on. Even if I had slowed down I was glad that there was no one else on the corridor with me to witness my descent into what must look like a drunken/drugged stagger.

The fear had taken a firm footing some where in the middle of my chest and was sending images of it self to flood and control my mind.

I had left! That much I was sure. There was no turning back; this also I was sure. But what was not so sure, was what was to come next. The receding corridor took with it any ideas of what was to come and the chasm that opened up before me swallowed the confidence with which I had so purposefully exited the room behind me. The future beckoned at the same pace as the gap in front of me opened up.

This dark pit in front of me now filled with my fear; I had no plans, no format to follow and as I tried to regain balance and take my hand from the wall a lifetime of fear and self doubt seemed to rise up and crash over me. It was at this point that I stopped. My head was stooped, my hand now firmly planted on the wall. If I was to make it to the other end I had to conquer this. I knew that the only way to do this was to move towards it. My fear is nothing but an opportunity to grow. I had to move. I had to want fall into it, traverse it, surmount it. What ever way you describe it, it must not be allowed to continue holding me where I was.

It was as if this chasm of fear having pushed my personality out of my body, had now taken up residence in place of that personality. The only way forward was to once again push the fear back, and try and regain control.

With the primeval lust that takes hold when we are deprived of oxygen, I took air into my lungs, filling them from the bottom up. The air now rushing into my lungs seemed to bring with it a bright yellow light that with each passing second pushed the darkness further and further from the recesses of my soul.
Held for a second, its intoxication was almost too much to bear after the darkness that preceded it, and it burst from me it a cloud of red mist.

Although it had steadied me, I was no nearer being able to continue along the corridor. But as the next lung-full brought another harvest of light I knew that all else paled into insignificance, and this process would save me from my fear. And so I took another lung full of light into me, and this time I had more control over its passage and I held its life giving force in me for a few seconds.

As the oxygen pushed the darkness further from me, the red mist of the next exhalation only added to this to this process. Now, I felt that I could open my eyes, and the wall in front of me was reassuringly bland, with only my hand breaking the cold, grey, slab of colour.

My senses were now returning to almost semi normal functioning and as I turned my head to look for the end of the corridor, to my surprise I found that I was already there.