Wet from rebirth

So I went to the optometrist this morning.

The visit started out normal enough. Dr. Goodflesh (actual name) plucked me from the waiting room and ran me through the usual tests (One, or two? Okay, now, one, or two?), and asked me polite, superficial questions about my life.

Then he got out the eye-dilating drops and everything changed.

"The college students like this part," he said, as he turned out the lights and flipped on a small machine that sent hundreds of green points of life spinning tranquilly about the room. "Do you prefer the solar cloud, or deep space?"


I opted for deep space. Before leaving the room to pour me a cup of coffee, the good doctor hit play on a small stereo: Yanni. "Think deep thoughts," he said tranquilly "your eyes should be ready in a few minutes." I can say definitively that this was the best Yanni listening experience of my life.



As my eyes dilated, the points of light broadened, lost focus. It was as if I was moving ever closer to them, until I had left Earth behind, and was suddenly, beautifully alone, dancing with the stars (ha ha!).

Five minutes later, he came back to run more tests, and everything was back to normal. The lights switched on, the music off. He showed me what my cornea looked like and then introduced me to his optician. I ordered frames that look eerily similar to all the frames I've ever ordered, and then I left. How boring life suddenly seemed, having discovered what it is to be a Platonic Soul, soaring, all-knowing, across galaxies, accompanied by no less than the greatest pianist of the 20th century.

If I seem more introverted, more aloof than when you last saw me, be not surprised; I am dreaming of a better place.