The ‘Glass’ Capsule Illusion “metaphors wrapped in the illusion of reality” The pictures are created in your mind
By: Arnold Richard Massengill Weird is not for the faint of heart!
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Chapter 1 I wake up cold, with a stiff neck, and a sore left shoulder. I sit up suddenly after slowly focusing my eyes and realizing I am naked and stretched out on a flat sheet, of what appears to be, a clear glass panel. I am startled into some sort of panicked reality as I look down through the panel, for all I can see are tree tops and water in the early dawn light. Looking up I see a partial grey sky with few clouds. Glancing quickly around, and judging from the look of the mostly flat surrounding terrain, I must be somewhere in the Midwest, probably Indiana, suspended in the air above a small lake. I cross my legs under me and start to look closer at my immediate surroundings. Completely confused by my transparent perch I try to concentrate and make some sense of what is happening to me. I find I am sitting inside a large transparent cube. The cube is fitted inside a larger transparent capsule. The top, the bottom, and the walls of the cube look to be the same dimensions. I estimate the cubeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s dimensions to be 12 x 12 feet of completely clear panels. I can see the panels fit together seamlessly, but there must be an air supply of some means; for I am breathing normally. There is a soft glow of light inside the cube; however I do not see any light source. When I look into the panels against the grey dawn light I do not see any reflections, whatsoever. When I place my hands on the flat surface it shimmers under my touch, but does not allow my hands to pass through. The surface where I am sitting is soft against my naked bottom and it also shimmers as I move. The capsule surrounding the cube extends out from two sides at least another 12 feet. There appears to be no access points so I go ahead and make the startling assumption that I am sealed inside the cube; but for what reason will remain a mystery, for now. I sit cross legged shivering in the cool morning air, rubbing my sore shoulder and stretching my neck from side to side working out the kinks. All the while I am wondering; is this just a bad dream, if so, when will I wake up? Or, as with anything lacking logic, is this all just an illusion in my mind? But illusion or not, as I see it at the moment, I am isolated alone inside the cube. Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m feeling confused and a little agitated as I take a closer look around the bottom panel in the dim morning light. In doing so, I make a discovery that stops all my movements. What I am looking at sends a cold chill up the back of my neck, causes goose bumps to pop out on my bare skin, and it makes my naked body shiver even more; I am not sealed inside the cube alone. In the early dawn light as I look in one corner I can make out what appears to be the coiled up outline of a large snake. I sit still and wait. Focusing closer as the daylight brightens I find myself looking into the face of a large light-yellow colored python. Coiled up in the corner it looks like it would easily fill a No. 2 wash tub. I have no doubt from its size that I could become a future meal. Feeling the apprehension start to rise I
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stare at the snake and wonder; is the python real? Is it just a character in my dream, or a cruel part of the illusion? I choose not to reach out and try to touch the snake, but to retreat. I slide slowly backwards away from the snake and now behind me I can hear the squeaking sounds of agitated rodents. The sounds are coming from the corner of the cube directly behind me and opposite the python. I stop sliding in the direction of the sounds, look around and can count at least 5 rats of various sizes crowded into the corner. Two larger ones are scurrying back and forth while staying to the outside of the small pack, thus keeping the smaller ones wedged in the corner behind. As the rats move about the flat surface in the corner it also shimmers under their weight. As I watch them I can only surmise the rats are packed so tight into the corner because of my presence, and of course, the looming presence of the large python. I look into the remaining two corners wondering what other surprises await. In one of the remaining corners is a mound of dirt about 2 feet high. A sign on a post sticking out of the dirt reads: “ashes to ashes dust to dust.” In the corner opposite the dirt is a large key. I can see words inscribed on the key. I look closer and make out the phrase “this is the key to ever more.” I can only think of one parallel and it is found in Revelation 1:18 - I am he that liveth, and was dead; and, behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen; and have the keys of hell and of death. I turn back and face the snake while I try to process the findings. I try to sit deathly still, but I feel the need to look around some more to further assess my situation. As I survey around I notice the capsule appears to be suspended 25 to 30 feet over a small lake next to a large stand of trees. But suspended how, what power is at work here? I look down and notice the wind is blowing through the tree tops; however, the capsule does not seem to move at all. Off in the distance I can hear the faint sound of bluegrass music, but can’t tell from which direction it is coming. Suddenly, a bell begins to toll; I listen intently and silently count the rings… 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12. After the 12th ring it stops. It must be a bell in a clock tower, but why is it ringing 12 times so early in the day? I pivot slowly around on the shimmering surface looking at all the panels in the bright light of the morning. I notice something written backward in big bold purple letters on the outside of each side panel. It reads “BE NOT AFRAID” and it appears to be moving slowly around the cube like one of those digital neon signs. I look back at the snake thinking, “That must be meant for me, but why, and who put it there?” By now the sun is high enough in the sky to warm the inside of the cube. This causes the large snake to start to slowly uncoil. It raises its head and looks around, first at me, and then it moves its head slightly to the side looking at the rats behind me, then back at me. As the snake moves its head from side to side a long tongue flickers in and out, searching I’m sure, for food heat sources. I have no way of knowing when the snake fed last; I can only hope the rats are favored over me.
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The warmth from the sun causes me to become drowsy even though it seems only a few hours have passed since I first woke. I fight the urge to succumb to the drowsy feeling as I am not at all sure of what might happen should I fall asleep. As I continue to fight sleep, all the while keeping an eye on the python’s corner, I see the snake starting to recoil and settle back into its corner. The rats are quiet now and only the sound of blue grass music breaks the silence. I am still sitting cross-legged in the center of the cube and I feel myself giving in to the urge to close my eyes. Even as I fight it my head sinks slowly down toward my chest and I drift into a sound sleep.
Chapter 2
I awake to the sound of the clock tower bell ringing and for a moment I am confused and disoriented. As I gain my senses and remember where I am, I find I am still facing the large python. As I look at it I notice a bulge behind the snake’s head. I pivot slowly around to look at the rats. I count and conclude that one of the larger rats is missing. This certainly explains the bulge in the snake. The next thought that comes to me is not of surprise, for rats are a natural food source for snakes; it is the fact that the snake would have come so close to me while I slept, all in its pursuit of the rat. The clock tower bell has stopped ringing, but in my current state of orientation I did not take the time to concentrate on the number of times it rang. I don’t know how long I was asleep, but judging from the position of the sun it must have been several hours. All I can do now is constantly stare at the snake while trying to remember my life before this ordeal. The sun has started to descend closer to the western horizon indicating that nightfall is not far off. I do not relish the thought of spending a night sealed in the cube, but nothing I have experienced thus far has indicated otherwise. I take time to look around outside the cube before night falls completely and in doing so make a difficult to explain observation; the terrain has changed. To my surprise it appears that I am now somewhere along the east coast hovering over a harbor next to a large city. I look down and see boats of different sizes, shapes, and vocation. Some are moving in toward the docks and many more are docked along the pier. I look closer and recognize lobster traps of various colors sitting stacked on the pier along side colorful lobster boats. I see a café where I ate lunch a couple of times, once with a loved one, another time alone. I remember shooting photos at the piers while walking the street that runs along the harbor. I recognize the street as being Commercial Street, leading me to
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conclude the capsule is over the harbor at Portland, Maine. However, the real question in my mind at this moment is how the capsule got transported to this location. As I continue to look down I can see some people walking on the sidewalk along the street. One older guy with a camera bag on his shoulder and a camera in his hands is walking along the pier. Others are working on the docks and still others are working on some of the larger boats docked at the piers. The harbor is alive with activity as the evening nears. In my excitement to see human life I start to yell out to see if anyone can hear me and possibly see me inside the cube. I yell out “hey on the docks…, helloooo…, help me…, can you hear me…” hoping I can attract attention. At that moment I notice the strangest phenomenon of my entrapment, thus far. I actually see the words come out of my mouth, strike the panel in front of me, bounce off, and fall down toward the bottom panel. I look down and see the letters piled up on the bottom panel. I yell out again “does any body hear me…” to see if what I witnessed is for real, and sure enough, the words bounce off the panel again and end up in a pile on the bottom panel. I am truly dumbfounded by this but can only sit and wonder how all this is possible. All the while, I am trapped in what I have reluctantly come to accept is an invisible existence and cruel confinement, inside my own transparent prison. While I sit watching the sunlight slip out of the sky the lights of the city take over as a focus point. The sparkling city lights take my thoughts away from my plight for just a few minutes. However, the movement of the rats brings me back to my own senseless reality. I turn around to observe the rats. In the dark I can make out the rat pack scurrying around the pile of letters that made up the words I yelled out earlier. I figure they are looking for food, but I can’t imagine they would go for the letters; never the less to my surprise, they are eating the letters. They finish eating and move back into their corner. I sit in the dark wondering if this ordeal can get any weirder. I turn back to the calming effects of the city lights to wait for darkness to turn into the light of another day. Sleep is the farthest thing from my mind right now, but I know I need to try to sleep before daylight. I must keep my waking hours for daytime; for that is when the snake is most active. The rats may scurry around at night, but in my mind, they are the least of my concerns. I keep thinking whatever happens next should not surprise me anymore. I vow, at least while awake, to sit and try to gather facts and keep my emotions in check as best I can under the circumstances. I shift my weight and lean back on my hands while looking at the city lights and wonder aloud, “If the words do not pass out through the panels does this mean the energy generated from my emotions just stays locked up inside the cube as well? That would be really weird.” An unconventional thought pops into my head - I am glad ‘weird’ is not an emotion, for if it were I would be drowning in negative energy. I can feel all my emotions, except for one, draining out of my being as I watch the words bounce off the panel in front of me and fall on the floor. I watch the rats scurry again from their corner and I have to react with a chuckle to my self, at the sight of them feasting on the letters. As I continue to watch, it eventually
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dawns on me that in this weird arrangement I am providing food for the rats, and at the present, the rats provide food for the snake. A question that now looms unanswered is; who will provide for my nourishment while trapped in this cube? Come to think of it, I have not felt hunger or thirst since I first woke up in this cube. Even if I did feel hunger I have no desire to eat my words or eat the rats, and the snake is much too large for one man with no weapons to attempt an attack. I want to think I am at the top of the food chain, but in my present situation I do not feel like I am at the top. I think about the natural order of living things. All living things die and return to the earth. All living breathing things try to do what is necessary, under any given circumstances, to prolong life. However, inside this cube I suspect ‘time’, although not a living breathing thing has the upper hand. I sit surrounded by the glow of the cube on the inside and surrounded by the dark of night on the outside. Working my mind by going back through the day, I try to wear myself down so that I might go to sleep before daylight appears. I go over all the things that have occurred up until now, but can not make convincing sense of the happenings during the time that has lapsed. I become exhausted mentality so I decide to lie down and curl up in a fetal position hoping sleep comes easy and quick. My last thoughts before finally drifting off to sleep are; why have I not heard the bell in the clock tower ring lately, and why does nobody notice the glowing from the cube even if they can’t hear me when I yelled? But as sleep comes over me I still hear the one constant sound; playing out there somewhere in the darkness is the bluegrass music, always the bluegrass music.
Chapter 3 I wake to the first ring of the bell in the clock tower. I lay still and count the number of rings - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8; it stops this time after 8 rings. It appears I have slept soundly and for several hours, in spite of the cool night air. I sit up stretch my legs out in front of me and raise my arms up over my head while twisting from side to side. After a brief moment of bending forward and trying to touch my toes I return to sitting cross legged and fold my arms across my chest. By now the sun is up high enough to warm the air inside the cube, and it dawns on me to look at the snake. I knew the cool air of the night would help keep the python from being active, but it is hard to know just when it might feel the warmth and uncoil. I do not see a bulge behind its head like the morning before, but I decide to pivot around anyway and count the rats. The second larger rat is missing from the pack. That leaves only the three smaller rats, and me. I look up at the bright sun to try to determine the time of day. The bell in the clock tower struck 8 times indicating 8 AM, but the sun is much higher, closer to 10 or 11 AM. Based on the position of the sun it’s for sure the clock can not be trusted to indicate the correct time.
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It is apparent now that I have slept longer than 8 AM thus giving the snake plenty of time to catch another rat and digest it for a longer period of time. Being father south and still on the east coast explains why the python is active earlier in the day. However, I do not think my being awake any earlier in the day would alter the snake’s intentions; I would simply have felt first hand the tangled emotions of having the snake come so close, instead of just imagining it, as I am now. I turn back to face in the direction of the snake and take the opportunity to look outside the cube. I suspect I will find I have been transported to a different location. Sure enough, as I look around outside the cube I see I am looking at the top of a lighthouse. I look down to see a long stretch of sand extending along the ocean. The lighthouse is sitting on the edge of a large sand dune and I recognize it as the one at Cap Hatteras on the outer banks of North Carolina. I wonder why here, then realize it is another place I spent time with a loved one and again later by myself. I begin to think long and hard about why I am transported during the times I am asleep. Is it sleeping that triggers the travel or is it just the blocking out of all light and movement when my eyes are closed? I decide to put my thinking to a test. I look toward the python to make sure it is still coiled up in its corner before I close my eyes. Satisfied that the python is settled down I fold my arms across my chest and close my eyes. I am dead still, calm, with no thoughts of selecting a place to travel. I remain in a relaxed, but very still position with my eyes closed for what seems like five minutes. I slowly open my eyes and look around. I am still looking at the top of the lighthouse. Disappointed I think, does this mean my theory is without merit or is there another element necessary to trigger the transport of the capsule? I continue to ponder the possible reasons why I did not get transported and hit upon the idea of adding my destination of choice. I sit back and fold my arms across my chest while remaining still and calm as before. This time I am thinking about my travel to the warm South Pacific island of Kwajalein, which is part of the Marshal Islands. I remain still with my eyes closed for what seems the same amount of time as before. When I open my eyes I find I am still looking at the Cap Hatteras lighthouse. Then it dawns on me that all the other locations are places I have been with a loved one. Maybe that is the missing piece. I try again picking Old Faithful in Yellowstone National Park as my destination. I open my eyes and sure as the dickens, I am now looking down at a crowd of people sitting on log benches waiting for the geyser to erupt. I know now that I can transport the cube to any number of other places, but I decide to wait here for the geyser to erupt. I want to see if anyone can see me up here in the capsule while they are looking up at the water spout. I don’t have to wait for long. Old Faithful erupts and while the people are watching I wave my arms and shout, even though I know shouting is a useless effort, “hey people, do you not see me sitting up here in this transparent capsule?” Nobody looks in my direction even though I am right beside the water spout. Nobody that is, except for a small child. I stop waving and watch the kid pointing up at me as the parent pulls him
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away toward the parking lot. I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t know what to think or what to do so I just watch the steaming water spout fall into a pool around the blow hole. I turn my attention away from Old Faithful and watch the rats feed on the letters piled on the bottom panel. This latest development puts my mind into overdrive thinking about how I can now control the capsule. I now know that I can move the capsule to a cooler climate whenever I want and help to keep the snake dormant during the daylight hours. I go ahead and move the capsule farther west in order to enjoy a longer day while I plan a strategy. I select a location along the coast on Highway 1 in central California. There is not much daylight left, but I decide to stay here and see if the cool night air will keep the snake inactive while I sleep. I will try to stay awake, but it is doubtful that I can last all night without closing my eyes. However, I am hoping the three hour time difference will allow me to sleep, wake up before sun up, and move back to the East coast before the python stirs. I watch the sun set on the Pacific Ocean, all the while thinking, I just might get to rest peacefully tonight. I can deal with everything else tomorrow.
Chapter 4 The brightness of the sun shining into my face and the heat of the sun against my naked skin brings me out of a restful sleep. I sit up and realize my plan of waking up early to move the capsule back east and stay ahead of the python has been foiled by my over sleeping. At least that is my thinking until I look out and see the lighthouse. To my bewilderment, I am back at Cap Hatteras, North Carolina. My next move is to check on the status of the snake and then turn around to count the rats. The snake is coiled up in its corner. I only see one small rat left from the pack. The python has consumed two small rats in order to satisfy its hunger. The remaining rat must know it is not a good idea to stay alone in the corner. It has moved close to me and always keeps me between it and the snake. It has become a strange companionship of entrapment but I figure the longer the rat stays alive the longer I have to figure out if all this will end well for me. For the next three days I try to keep the capsule in cold areas in order to keep the python inactive. I do it more for my own sake, but I have a real interest in helping the rat stay alive for as long as possible. I am exhausted trying to stay in cold areas; as a consequence, I have lost all interest in knowing where I am anymore. It always becomes more confusing whenever I wake up from periods of restless sleep to find the destination to be in an area with a warm climate. I know I have to keep trying, but I can not trust my mind when I close my eyes. I know it is only a matter of time before the snake makes off with the last rat and I become the object of its attention when its hunger comes a calling.
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While I sit in the warmth of the daylight wondering what might happen next I notice letters still scattered on the bottom panel. I wonder why the rats left them; why not eat all the letters. As I look closer I notice they appear to be arranged into words. I lean forward in an attempt to make out the words and see the phrase “you are dead” laid out crooked and jagged across the panel. I sit back to take it all in while this weird dream or illusion I am living in plays on. Now, how do I answer the question, am I dead now or will I be dead in the near future? The questions will go unanswered for now as I sit cross legged in the center of the panel watching the snake watch me. The last small rat is close enough to my backside to touch my skin and is not making any movement or sounds. We remain this way the rest of the day and into the night. Restless sleep finally takes over, in what must be the wee hours of the morning. This morning starts out cool, but heats up rather quickly since I am, again, suspended somewhere in the south. I do not feel the rat against my skin so I look around to see if it is still with me. It is no longer anywhere in the cube so that can only mean the python ate it during the warmth of the early morning. The small rat will only be an appetizer for the python. The heat causes little concern in my weakened condition even though I am more vulnerable to the python. I am much weaker now due to dehydration and lack of nutrition of any kind. I find am no longer sitting cross legged in the center of the cube; I am leaning back against the pile of dirt. This must have happened during the period of my restless sleep. I watch the snake uncoil and start to stretch out slowly across the bottom panel. I have no fear of the python as it raises its head and looks in my direction. I smile at the sight of the pale yellow color of the python thinking that its beauty will be the last thing I see if I stay trapped in this cube. I have not heard the bell in the clock tower ring in the last three days. The last time I heard the bell it stopped after the third ring. If I try to analysis the reasons why it stopped after three rings and has not rung for three days, I conclude it can only mean my time is nearing its end. As I sit and watch the snake I notice the sound of blue grass music is louder. I can now make out the words to a song. I recognize the bluegrass song as “When My Time Comes To Go” by the Jackson County Boys. The last emotion I feel is loneliness as I watch the python move closer. I feel the cool rough underbelly of the snake as it moves across my bare legs. In the next few seconds I find myself being bound in its coils. I feel the tightness start to creep in, first my head, then my shoulders, my chest, and finally all the way down to my legs. My breathing becomes labored and then the darkness takes over as I feel my head enter the mouth of the python. For the next few seconds my past flashes before me and I manage one final smile. Then, as would be expected as I am consumed by the python, the sound of the bluegrass music stops and silence joins the darkness.
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