I put my hand on the seat cushion of the sofa
in order to stand up, but my hand sank into it
for about two feet. Whew. The walls were no
longer in ninety-degree angles. At least the
ones that I could see. Because I wasn't able
to turn my head. Through the window I saw
that aliens had landed on the roof of the
bakery across.
I now remembered also Huxley's advice to have
someone nearby, who wasn't using. There I sat,
paralyzed, alone. Since the confusion about the
passage of time on the previous trip, I had
planned to regularly take a look at the clock.
But now that seemed just a pathetic way to
keep track of a thing called 'time'. I had to
learn myself everything all over again. First,
suppress the emerging panic. Give myself very
simple instructions, and then check. My neck ...
Carefully turn it ... turn! Again ... Now my hand
sank only one foot into the seat cushion. Stand
up. And I stood. But the room tilted at least
ten degrees. I was able to walk. Would I dare
to go outside? Then I had to try going down
the stairs. But I couldn't even get my coat on.
Which wasn't necessary by the way, cause I was
sweating again.
