freewrite

A tiny, wriggling imperfection in the corner of the eye. Turned for better perception, it slides until you find yourself staring at a blank wall with a spot in the peripheral you cannot see. It is the thought of a reality different than your own. The idea that the world, as you understand it, does not compare to the roiling vastness of truth steeping beneath its surface.
That is how I perceive it now. The entirety of the visible world, the surface of some vast body of water. Every now and again even the average person receives a hint of this. A rippling that might be the jerking spasms of a tired eye. A glimpse of movement that might be paranoia or stress. Nothing to indicate anything other than the stable perimetres delineated by reflecting light, reverberating soundwaves, physical resistance of surfaces or airborne particles.
Even I can claim only tentative knowledge of this realm. My sight is clouded by those ubiquitous landscapes and beings which it is within the ordinary ability to comprehend. I understand your own involvement to be greater, however, and so it is with urgency that I pen this note.