subjective changes

My head has shrunk. Seriously! I noticed it some ten days ago or so. I was washing my hair in the shower. My head never had a size before, it was just there while I did my thing. One day, it was small. Or maybe my hands have grown? When I was a young soccer player, new coaches would scoff at my claim of being a goalie. They would take one look at my little hands and say, impossible! I am not tall; perhaps I would have caught more balls if my hands were larger. I was quick, though, had good judgment regarding angles, and launched my body into the path of oncoming players with abandon. Most of my best saves I don’t remember. It is as if the moment between anticipating a shot and feeling the ball on my fingertips occurred too quickly for memory to capture.
The size of my hands hasn’t changed. I’m pretty sure my head isn’t physically smaller, either. Yet, the perception signifies something…
I remember the one time I dropped acid. I remain a coward in regard to drugs; addiction runs in the family and being out of control has never appealed to me. I was curious, though, and I had gotten to known this guy who did acid frequently. I trusted him. It was a mellow trip. I was awake for some 20 hours with no hint of fatigue. I wasn’t speeding, just alert. The sound of the cicadas in the springtime trees that night occupied my attention for a long while. My body still remembers standing in a Taco Bell parking lot, listening.
Eventually we ended up back at my parent’s house, where I was staying during a break from college. I was amazed that I was still so awake, come 4 or 5 am, but also wondering what the big deal was – I hadn’t had a single hallucination. Then I looked down at my hand on the arm of the lounge chair. It slowly morphed into a dinosaur claw. Creeped me out! I was sure my hand would never look the same again.
But it does. Same ol’ small hands. Just like my head is really still the same size, even though the rest of my senses seem to be finally catching up with my mind.

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