Thursday, December 18, 2014


The telephone rang. I heard its insistent ring. I was unwilling to hoist myself out of bed. But some impulse propelled me towards the telephone. I groped about in the dark and my leg bumped into the bedside. A yelp of pain shot through me as the pain built up. I hobbled . By the time i limped towards the telephone it had gone silent. The insistent caller, exasperated by delay, must have cut the connection.
Thus severed from contact with a person who remained unknown i cast about in my imagination to formulate his identity, Or hers as Myriads of names flashed through my consciousness alerting, by the causal nature of my life, a compendium of people who might have rung knowing, as i did, despite being inveigled by my own complicity into this speculation, that they very well might not have, that, ultimately my unprofitable surmises might furnish my imagination with ample fodder to fritter away a few minutes while my consciousness, just awoken from slumber, struggled to readjust to a wakeful consciousness which, by intimating the inexorability of the day and the factuality of having woken up, betokened that yes, the time to stir, to be alert has now emerged.
I reflected as i woke up that is to say woke up cognitively on how i had in my metamorphoses from slumber to wakefulness managed to distort reality by challenging its coordinates unconsciously through a process of rumination that partook of the uncertainty of this reality but nevertheless reconfigured it by imbuing it with a certain unalterable sense of consciousness and what i'm trying to say was that the identity of the caller was unknown to me but in that interlude i had undergone a transformation of consciousness wherein visible reality which is the phone call because i heard it was supplanted with inner reality which was the processes of my ratiocination and that ultimately if i separated each from the other the call and the caller would be indivisibly conjoined yet irrevocably separate in both my mind and the external reality that encompassed them given my lassitude in being untimely in my traversing of the dream hinterland which stalled the phone ring but activated my imagination.
'We need an x-ray', the doctor said,' to check for hairline fracture'
'It is sore and swollen. I bumped into the bed stead in the morning while trying to pick up the phone' i said.
'Who was it ,who was calling that made you rush so 'the doctor inquired busily while feeling my knee.
'oh i don't know. The phone stopped before i could find out' i sheepishly rejoined.
The x ray showed no fracture
'There, there's no fracture but you need to rest up your leg for a bit. Ice packs and a paracetomol for the pain' he asseverated as he bandaged up my leg and helped me off the stool.
'Thank you'. . was my plaintive though thankful riposte.
Meanwhile clouds are scattered in the sky, unthreatening but hinting at a possible rainfall. A robin chirps and warbles, its arias of joyousness commingle with the surroundings. An ant busily zigzags along carrying a grain of something on its back. The leaves sway gently. The robin's breast glows iridescently, the clouds gradually conglomerate, sunlight shades into opalescence and a drop of rain brushes my cheek.
I am home. But i have this injury to convalesce from and the answering machine has a message left by the dentist to remind me of my appointment day after.

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