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“I peruse manifold objects, no two alike and every one good, the earth good and the stars good, and their adjuncts all good.”
These two objects exist, beyond what I understand.
The peppermint blanket
The folding bench
Were they created only to elicit confusion
or did they become focal points for a deeper fever of the mind?
People laugh, and dismiss this as a joke.
I've tried to tell my family, but I can't bear the thought of being laughed away.
The befuddlement is true.
The Blanket
You return from school, tired and sweaty from the bike ride home.
As you walk by the closet, you feel it.
A dizziness, so deep and profound that it threatens to swallow you whole, radiates from the blanket.
You avert your eyes and try to stumble past it, into your bedroom.
Still, that red-and-white pattern burns itself into your mind, dominating your thoughts.
You cower and hide from the artefact’s aura, ashamed and embarrassed to be under the influence of a mundane object.
Defiant (foolish), you turn toward the peppermint blanket and stare, daring it to try to control you.
As you stare, entranced, your vision swims and your head pulses with fervent ramblings.
Your knees grow weak.
Abstract concepts assault your consciousness.
Your mind does battle with the blanket, lasting as long as it can until you are forced to stumble away.
You cannot tell your family about the power this object holds over you.
Folding Bench
A sharp pain sears through your mind, inexplicably consuming your waking mind.
Have you ever fathomed the boundless cosmos, each and every moment collapsing into the present?
Have you ever fathomed the fatalistic march of time toward the one true future?
The folding bench is located on the first floor of your house, covered by cushions and a rug. The frame is made up of soft brown wood.
In spite of its veil, you can still occasionally feel the sharp pain of its influence when you walk by.
The folding bench is tied to countless other moments when you have thought the same thoughts.
Every time you think of the folding bench, it conjures up memories of past experiences.
You recall every previous moment you have spent looking at this bench.
The memories overwhelm you, crushing your spirit.
Is this life real? Is it a dream?
But you cannot tell anyone. They wouldn’t believe you.
They’ll call you ridiculous.
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