Phantom Lamb

I was walking home late on Tuesday night after several hours ensconced in Columbia's Butler Library trying to keep up with my weekly reading assignments. The weather turned just a touch cooler than the mid-60s we've been having, I had a familiarly heavy pack on my back, and I was deeply distracted by wandering thoughts and the ready companion of my cheap-o mp3 player.

For just a moment, I forgot where I was.

I knew I was going to my lodging, and I knew it was just a few blocks away, and the streets all looked vaguely familiar, but what I lost was my sense of place in these surroundings. Like the sudden feeling of falling you have sometimes when you're drifting off to sleep? I had identity vertigo.

Distracted (as I mentioned before), my brain quickly assembled the most likely solution: I was traveling. I was comfortably making my way through a foreign land only slowly becoming more familiar. I had my next destination, a non-empty stomach, music and my core necessities on my back. I was good to go.

But it was just a fleeting moment. I was shaken out of my mumblings (this time grappling with the concept of structuralism) by the realization that I wasn't in Europe. I wasn't even in a strange city; I was home.

I understand that people always on the move (rock bands, for example), often have difficulty keeping track of where they are, sometimes to humerous or tragic consequences.
"Thank you Cleveland, and Good night" "You're in Michigan, Asshole."
In their defense, each seedy dive bar a band plays looks basically like the previous one, and by driving all day they don't get to see what makes each stop potentially unique.

But I'm no doped-out Fender Master. I spent 2 months in Europe, the first significant travel of my life, and have been out of the traveling mode for sometime. So why did it pop up as the most likely scenario?

Music certainly played a part. Same basic rig, same tunes. But there was something else.

I can't put my finger on it (if you still come to this blog for anything - especially answers - you should know better by now), but I got an... impression.

I saw something around the corner (of my mind!) that reminded me of what it was like being abroad. I glanced a metaphorical companion that I could only identify with my solo travels, and so I assumed that I must still be traveling.

We'll see if this concept persists - and I'd love to hear from those of your with more travel experience - but for now I'm going to process this via personification.

I think I'm being stalked by The Lamb. He's half-invisible, but I'm going to keep my eyes (and mind) open to see if I can track down a few more of his wet footprints.

I'll let you know.

Weber (on the trail of the Lamb)