This is a new day i think. Or a new week if i am sleeping more than I should again. I can’t remember, and there isn’t a way to tell. I have become obsessed with the doorknob. Not obsessed in a bad way. Not like the doorknob had much to fear if i can’t get out of this bed it seems. I am just confused by the shape of it. For some reason I feel like i am in a medical setting. Not really a hospital, but someplace with no germs. Where viruses are stopped by gates in the pathways in. Walls and filters, and doorways. Maybe something with the pressure, higher inside than out to push the air out of the building. Regardless, it is seems to me medical. I don’t know though, if that is the case, shouldn’t i have seen a nurse? Or a doctor? Shouldn’t something in the room have shifted?
The knob, I almost forgot. I thought most knobs in medical centers were the kind that were the long metal handle, so that it can be shoved down with your elbow or even your back without contaminating your hands. This one seems like a normal house door. Like a door that would lead to your bedroom, but fancier than most i have seen. Like it looks like bronze, that sheen, but the patina of it as well. I don’t know why i know what the patina of bronze looks like, why would that be something i have learned? But i noticed that the door has a key hole below the knob.
Do you remember the old knobs on doors, do you remember skeleton keys? No one does really remember them, but they pop into our minds when we think of keys. What was the reason for that image to be stuck in my head. I can see the round top of the hole, and the wide 35 degree arc of space below it where the teeth fit. So many memories of cabin doors and old key chains. So many things associated with that shape. It makes me sad for some reason. To know that our world has gone to a place where we have teeth on teeth on teeth in our keys now. Each one an arms race against thieves. Or is it a way to make use feel secure with our lock. I guess it isn’t important overall, but it makes me wonder about this place.
How old does the room seem? How dusty do the walls seem? The door seems old, the lock seems out of date, and not really something meant to keep anyone inside. But also, i know the room itself is part of something larger. Something beyond the space i am in. Are the sheets the lock? Maybe the fact that I love being asleep more than awake. Or i can’t seem to find a handle on how time works here. All of those? Maybe just a little of everything. I wonder what happens when these thoughts stop. What are the next steps of the thought itself.