I’m sitting outside our building, shoes off, toes exploring the grass, watching cars pass. It was only two weeks ago that I was at home, enjoying the silence, feeling like there were very few people left in the world. Two weeks ago that this building where I find employment was furthest from my mind.
Two weeks ago, I was inhabiting the liminal world: a place where you know that it’s day, but not which one or what time. A place where I felt like it should be cold and rainy outside, even though it was sunny and hot. A place where the feelings left over from this morning’s dreams stayed with me all day.
“Liminal” is described in the dictionary as being “of, relating to, or situated at the limen.”
Of course, no one calls a threshold a “limen” anymore, but I can tell you that I define this feeling as being stuck between two frames of reference and the disquiet that results from being not entirely sure you’re in either. I liken it to the floaty, unreal feeling you get with a good fever. Possibilities – benevolent and malevolent – are in the air and waiting for a little will and belief to manifest.
I’ve loved this feeling for as long as I can remember. It can be creepy or wonderful, childlike or dystopian. Quite often, it’s all of them together.
It’s this feeling I want to engender in others when they read my writing or play my games. It’s obviously been done before, and I’m certainly not claiming sole ownership or that my ideas are completely original. I just want people to come play with me, in this world at dusk…or is it dawn?
The Painted Corner 