Disturbed

I woke in the night, opened my eyes and the darkness was swirling around me. I closed my eyes, opened them again and the dark window swooped at the dark lampshade. The dark bookshelves whirled themselves at the shape of the door. I closed my eyes, wondering what was happening inside my brain.
 
I woke in the morning and whatever I looked at swooped. I was scared, but back in July I’d seen my elder brother show my younger brother some exercises for something similar - to clear debris from the middle ear - so B looked them up and with his help I tried them. Oh nausea. I tried again. The tornado of my world calmed a little. I tried them again and stumbled back to bed.
 
I phoned work to say I couldn’t get in. We had a crucial meeting this afternoon and a colleague begged me to get a cab in for that if I possibly could. I went back to sleep. By mid-afternoon I thought I could manage the bus and got to the corner before I realised I couldn’t. I called a cab and the driver turned out to be someone I’d helped find work years ago. What a strangeness in a strange day. But my mind was working perfectly well, we had a good chat and he absolutely refused to let me pay him. Absolutely.
 
At the meeting I said what I needed to say and, sitting down, I appeared fine: logical, coherent, impassioned. It was only when I needed to hold onto furniture to walk that anyone could see I was dizzy. A colleague gave me a lift home, I did the exercises again and went back to bed.
 
 
(The image, obviously, is a reconstruction.)
 
to be continued… (backblipping - I am OK)