Duck Slap

Late at night, one of my cd towers fell over, spilling its contents over my living room floor. I started to gather them up but then I decided I’d rather go to bed.

After lying awake in bed for a while I wondered why I couldn’t sleep, and thinking about possible reasons I considered that perhaps I was becoming obsessive-compulsive and that the CD pile was the culprit. I thought that was silly, as I don’t normally tend in that direction, but then I felt a rhythmic slapping on my back, as if by the wing of a very large cartoon duck.

I wondered if compulsion could be classified as a sense, and if so, was this a manifestation of a sudden onset of a strange form of synaesthesia? Would any future unfinished cleaning feel like a large cartoon duck, rhythmically slapping me on my lower back?

It wasn’t a particularly unpleasant sensation. It was actually quite calming, and vaguely reminded me of lullabies sung under a palm tree on the beach while a nearby star gently exploded.

I decided my mind was just going out of its way to play tricks on itself, and that I should probably once again just try to sleep.


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