Somehow, in my unconscious state, I recognize the absence of it. It strikes me as odd. My lucid dreams often serve as crude yardsticks of my Husking. I don’t – can’t – remember any of the sessions I’m hired for. I can only remember the dreams I had when I was under. What passes for my usual dormancy is an indefinable block of lost time, duration unknown. Could have been minutes, could have been months. There is nothing, except this thought that I know I’m experiencing nothing. This awareness of what is missing is alien to me, consciousness in an utter dead zone with almost nothing to contemplate. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I was at peace. Suddenly, I’m brought back to life, emerging into myself as the newfound residue of foreign cognition starts to slip from my brain. Soon the squatter is gone, leaving out the back door as I enter the front, vacating my head for only me. It takes a little longer than usual to come to my senses. My eyes are returned to me first, vision blurry.
