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The Raging Fever

It started off with an itch.

Timon was waiting for the train when he felt it under his thigh. Despite repeatedly scratching it, the itch kept coming back.

He was on the train when it had spread to his buttocks and thighs. By night, it became worst and had spread to his entire body.

Then came the fever along with the hallucinations as the itch subsided.

Feeling excruciatingly ill, he thought to himself if he should take medical leave from work and recuperate in the confines of his room.

He laid in his single bed shivering, covering himself in a blanket and tried his best to sleep. But he couldn’t.

For some reason, absurd thoughts bubbled in his head. There were visions of explosions, of blood, flashes of violence and murder, images of gore and madness.

“What the fuck…” he said as he tossed and turned but to no avail.

The visions kept coming. And they kept coming stronger. Worst, his head throbbed.

He laid on his back, his eyes open. Perhaps this might assist in preventing such visions.

It didn’t help.

As the temperature of his body rose, the visions kept getting stronger. He saw one where an entire city was blown into nonexistence from what he presumed was a nuclear explosion.

“This won’t do..” he said as he sat up and rubbed his face. His heart was beating and he was out of breath. His body temperature had risen and his headache much more worst.

He looked around his rented room. Everything was dark except the light illuminating from under the door slit.

Opening the door, he ventured out slowly to take a leak.

Moments later, he was back again in his room after having a cup of water. The memory of that vision lingered like a fresh wound.

He tucked himself in and tried shutting his eyes.

At first, all he saw were patterns and swirls, and then they morphed into flames. Soon, in his vision, he saw the entire world burned as dead bodies were scattered everywhere.

He shivered and opened his eyes again, sighing.

“Am I having an anxiety attack?” He mumbled weakly to himself.

More and more visions of explosions, devastation, anorexic children begging for money while politicians turned dictators sipping on champagnes happily as the world burned around them.

Timon went back to the kitchen and mustered the strength to pop in two tablets of panadol.

He then sat on the old couch in the hall. It was silent and eerie. The visions still lingered at the back of his head. Outside, he could hear several dogs howling. Checking his wall clock, he realised it was 12.

He dragged himself to his room, half minded if the decision he had made was wise.

But he needed to lie down, his head was pounding.

The visions instantaneously became stronger the moment he covered himself with a blanket.

This time he saw visions of children and men being beheaded by masked men.

The world, just like his body, burned.

“Why are you here?” he mumbled weakly.

There was silence. The visions kept appearing, shifting from one scene to another like a screensaver does. He was too tired to fight them off. Too weak.

He allowed the visions to play themselves out. There were moments where he found his heart beating fast. Especially when the visions showed multiple explosions of nations being blown up.

“I’m.. not well.. Why am I feeling this way?”

He shivered as he coiled his body to get as much heat as possible while sleeping in the fetal position.

The visions kept playing. His breathing became heavier.

“Just visions..” he said to himself.

He focused on his breathing this time. The sound of the air traveling to and fro his nostrils. He felt the sensation of the air hitting the walls of his nose and focused on them for a little while.

It didn’t help dissolve the visions, but it calmed him down and allayed his fear.

And then he stared at the visions down.

“Why are you here?”

There was silence again. It helped Timon in recalling; prior to the itch and fever, he was feeling extremely dull and depressed. He had been reading news after news about deaths, killings, terrorist attacks and Brexit and what have you to the point he was literally sick of the world.

He reworded his question this time; “What have you got to teach me, fear?”

Fear remained silent.

But in the darkness, Timon realised the deeper truth behind his fear as he turned to his side.

“I… I love myself..” he slurred.

The heat in his body, the fire in the vision continued to rage on.

“I forgive myself for seeing the world the way I see it. I just… love myself,” he said with more conviction.

He turned to his back again and stretched his arms out as he shivered.

“And I.. I love the world too..” he sighed.

There was silence again except for the moving ceiling fan. A nearby house gecko chirped a couple of times, as though in agreement with what he had just done.

“I’m really.. sorry,” Timon muttered again as he stared at the moving fan.

The visions gradually passed on were replaced with that of planet earth. It was rotating on its axis slowly. In it, billions of people like him were probably experiencing the same fear their minds were projecting.

Timon closed his eyes and took in the scene.

He felt a deep sense of compassion, of connectedness.

Of oneness.

“I love you,” he said and felt a huge burden lifted off his chest. It was as though something huge had dislodged itself.

Then the vision of the world gave way to patterns and geometric symbols. Out of these symbols he observed the flower of life symbol being among the prominent ones.

The visions of chaos and death occasionally arose but no longer as strong as they were. Instead, he saw greenery. Lots of it. The sky was blue. The air pristine. Happy children of different ethnicities running in green fields. These became prominent.

“I love the world.” Timon muttered weakly as he raised his hands and stretched them.

He understood that even these were visions. Focusing on his breath, his mind became still and empty. His forehead no longer throbbed. Instead, there was a huge sense of relief especially at his brow area.

Timon felt relaxed.

And then the information was passed down to him. He understood the concept of the four Natural Laws. He saw his past lives. He saw the power he had within him.

He was the creator of his own reality. And most importantly, he understood that he had always been free.

But what was miraculous though when he awoke the next morning was the fact that the fever was gone.

Just like that.

HeavenHellClock

Image via: http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0wI3–TI-fM/VRjAE9qHozI/AAAAAAAADpU/Ohc0yjNbE14/s1600/HeavenHellClock.png

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