The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1226 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I found myself in this strange but familiar place–a huge white building, with light flowing through huge windows. I could only compare it to a cathedral, and I’ve been in loads of them, but none like this one. It felt like a cathedral to worship light itself.

The whole atmosphere was very light, and I felt light headed, like you do if you go up in the mountains–I’ve been up in the Alps on a school trip looking at Alpine ecology and if you made any exertion at altitude it knackered you in a short time until you get used to it by your body acclimatising–ie producing extra red blood cells, which is why athletes train at altitude. It’s sort of legitimate cheating.

I wondered why I was in this place or at it, whatever the correct term should be, but here I was, wearing a thin white dress and barefoot. Everything felt floaty yet real, it was very strange but not unpleasant or frightening.

There seemed to be no one else here which puzzled me and I wondered if I’d died or something. In which case was this just the death throes of my brain, endorphins giving me a comfortable journey to oblivion–perhaps I was about to find out–um–correction, if there is only nothingness after croaking–then I wouldn’t know would I? Similarly, if my infallible logic holds, then either I’m not dead or I’m wrong? Oops, could prove interesting–haven’t seen any Pearly Gates yet nor St Peter, or even an ethereal dormouse. It’s just me.

Is this what Hell actually is? A waiting room where no one comes and there is no bell to ring for attention? For someone as impatient as I am, it could be quite a torment. I’ll keep wandering round and see if I can find someone.

Wow, this place is vast, even Bath Abbey, which isn’t small would fit into it dozens of times. Still no one here, so why am I here? Seems a bit pointless if you ask me, which you can’t, because I’m sure this is dream or as I said endorphins giving me one last trip. Thing is I can’t remember how I got here, actually I can’t remember anything, except who I am.

Oh-oh, am I going to get fed to the crocodile–I think it’s a crocodile in the ancient myths after they weigh my heart and find it’s full of low density lipoprotein — bad cholesterol to anyone who picks up on my thoughts–it’ll probably break the scales and they’ll chuck it to the crocodile who eats it and moments later collapses because of all the chemicals in it.

Am I only joking because I’m scared or because I’m light headed? Whatever has happened to my physical body, I assume there is one somewhere, must be causing these strange sensations in my head. Perhaps my kidneys have packed up or something? Just can’t remember anything.

Um–that isn’t quite true–I can remember my body isn’t quite as it started off, I mutilated it–or got a very clever surgeon to do so for me–ah that’s why no one is coming to see me–I’m obviously chief pariah or public enemy number one. Well this could take some time–‘cos I ain’t gonna apologise.

Looking at myself, as best I can–there are no mirrors, just enormous high windows and this blinding white light–I have a female shape, either that or the gown thing has lumps in the chest. Um–that feels a bit irreverent for my surroundings.

Why am I here and where am I? Who brought me here? I call out but my voice instead of forming words makes strange sounds–weird or what? Yet I can think–I assume I am, or is this just the deranged ramblings of a dying brain? What happened to the tunnel of light and the silver thread connecting me to my body–didn’t see any of that? Trust me to be different.

I walk some more and this place seems to stretch on and on no matter which direction I take. I’m not tired, but becoming frustrated–I’ve explored everywhere–well, I’ve walked up and down for some time–somehow, I suspect time is something that doesn’t count up here. Um–I said up here, because of the sense of altitude, it could be down here for all I know.

Now if I had wings, I could get about much more quic–ooh-er–I’ve got wings. Hey, I can fly–this is good, beats walking any day. Can’t be an angel–can I? Nah–do they have ti...I mean breasts? No such thing as angels, nor the rest of it, this is all a weird dream–gotta be.

I’m getting the hang of this flying lark, though I can’t seem to get up to the windows to see out of them. This place is absolutely vast, and I still don’t seem to be anywhere except where I started. Let’s try a landing–I walked away from it, so that’s supposed to be a good one.

Sod it, if there is someone here who wants me, they can come to me. I sat down cross-legged and adjusted my dress. After a while I felt uncomfortable and knelt down sitting on my feet.

I sensed something coming towards me–I kept my gaze downwards. Then words formed in my head but as if something else was putting them there, however, I couldn’t respond to them.

‘Catherine, for that is your name, we are pleased you have assumed the position of a penitent. Your sins are forgiven, although some of them were serious including the taking of life, you have also restored it in others and given freely of your love to others who were in need.

Your time is not yet and we have further work for you to do, so return and continue the work we have ascribed to you. Be gone back to the physical world.’

I wanted to ask questions about what was what and who and where and when, plus a few more but suddenly I felt a wind like a tornado approaching me and I was whisked up by it and tossed about like a feather in a gale.

Instead of the light everything was black, as dark as a starless night and instead of being unaware of my body I was suddenly consumed by pain. My head felt like it would burst and I felt like a flash of pain shoot right through me, then again and I landed with crash, the whirlwind was gone, in its place were voices–“Yes, she’s restarted–oh good we have some systole–had me worried for a moment–these arrests with head injuries are a bugger. Right get some X-rays and as soon as she stabilises, I want a scan...Cathy, I don’t know if you can hear me. It’s Ken, Ken Nicholls, you’re going to be alright–just hang in there. You’ve had one hell of a whack on the bonce, on the back of your head. We have to run some more tests so be patient with us. We don’t have your clever skills–so if you can do it on yourself, feel free–if not, you’ll have to be patient as we bumble along doing our best, and believe me kiddo, we are going to do everything we possibly can to sort you out as quickly as we can. Just rest for now, it’ll help with the healing.”

I don’t know if he was still talking or what, but I felt this wave of extreme exhaustion overwhelm me and I felt myself drifting off in this wave of tiredness into sleep.