A sceptic can’t believe. It’s useful.

When it happens – a field tilting, spinning – I must steady only myself, not my worldview.

It starts with the eyes. They fix and unfocus. I am detached. Often it starts with washing dishes. Anything repetitive, hypnotic.

The eyes stall, tripping on their own movement. The brain upends, and I – this one, anyway – vanish. In steps a stranger, into my skin, my sink, my very consciousness. Then –
they reminisce. I’m swamped by nostalgia for a foreign memory. My mouth is gritty and bitter.

This taste…I know it.

The foreign turns familiar, I reach and clasp, something is there, something that means, that matters, so close to understanding –

Then it’s me again, scalding fingers on a ragged sponge.

Can I cast this into reason – a waking micro sleep, intruded upon by a memory of dream?
Ah, yes. That could be. Please.

I can’t believe anything more unsteadying.

It’s useful.



Campbell Banks is a cellist and screenwriter living in Melbourne. He is a member of Syzygy Ensemble.