Cosmic Hoarding

Abruptly I notice that there is no more room in the universe or in my mind for anymore objects and maybe anymore thoughts. Everything has stopped. There’s an absence of energy, light, sensation, or sound. My breath sputters.What remains is an overwhelming sense of solidity.  Space is, in every respect, filled. There is a complete standstill, an existential paralysis making any ambition or action impossible.

This is it I think, all I can do is wait it out.

Things begin to gradually loosen up. Cracks penetrate the dense solidity. I feel my chest slowly relaxing, my breath deepening. As space opens up I sense that things become free of each other. It remains dark.

I may have fallen asleep or fainted and when I awake I find three objects at my feet: an open box, the number 10, and the color red.

I feel relief that my mind accommodates to thinking once more, yet my vision continues to be limited to what’s in front of my face. I’m not sure what to do and I don’t want to make any mistakes. I move cautiously through the area. I find a large envelope and place the open box, the number 10, and the color red inside. Sealing the envelope I address it to myself.

I leave the area of darkness and search for a mailbox.