Express, baggage and all...

Habitat for the Unimaginable

Inhabit my mind, why don't you? Move right on in. Don't worry, just push the furniture out of your way. That chair? I never meant to use it. No, you do what you want. Why? I don't see why not. You've taken over every other aspect of my existence, so why not my mind as well? No. You don't have to pay rent. Taxes are another matter, though. Taxes are beside the point, really. But yes, the government wants its cut. Everything's permitted here, in the confines of my thoughts. Everything. But don't think you can incite a riot or instigate other forms of violence or depravity. You can paint the walls in blood if you have to; but it, all of it, can never seep out into the Shared Realm. As far as what you do in here, well it's private. Confidential, you know? The walls may have ears, but the doors have locks. On the other side of these walls, that door, you're bound by all the same rules that have bound you from the beginning of time. And that's still a very good idea, don't you agree? As for how you choose to live, well, that's up to you. You can exist in complete darkness, if you want. Turn out all the lights. I'll still know what you're up to. Just so you know. Or go in the opposite direction. Light up your world with halogen gas and one hundred percent solar consciousness. That's OK too, as long as you're prepared to foot the bill. Whatever you decide goes. You might wonder what I'll be doing, while you go about your life, here, in the cramped or expansive – depending on your point of view – confines of my mind. You may notice traces, perhaps the odd half-empty cup, a plate of unfinished lunch, some crumbs, or a rumpled pile of clothes in the corner. They may be all you see of me, but chances are we will bump into each other on occasion, perhaps at most inopportune moments, like in the middle of a private act, or a long suspenseful silence between thoughts. The uneasy sense of being watched or listened in on can't be helped, under the circumstances. You'll just have to get used to the fact you're not alone. The same way I've had to accept you've been horning in on me from the get go. So... Any questions, before we get on with the business of living? No, sorry, my imagination's my own. I don't intend on sharing it with you. Get your own. Now, if you don't mind, I'll just slip into the next room. Toodle loo...