My sister gave me a lava lamp for my birthday, many years ago. Every night, before my consciousness drifts away, she brings light to my life, without even realizing.
In a restless state of cognizance last night, I lay watching the wax rise and fall, stretch and separate, only to eventually come back together by morning. Somewhere in the depths of my mind, I wondered if this could be an image for what goes on inside our heads.
What if our thoughts were those mounds of wax, slowly gaining heat and momentum, rising up, sometimes separating; growing and forming other ideas. What if the top of that lamp were our consciousness, collecting ideas that our subconscious formed, grasping them, for a second only, before they begin the journey back down.
I used to wonder what happened to our thoughts if we couldn’t grasp them in time. Were they gone forever? My friend listened to my query, then told me she thinks they stay in our mind somewhere, circling around, waiting for the day we’re ready to grasp them once again.
Maybe our brains aren’t physically like a lava lamp - with wax and coloured water, but tonight when I rest my head, I will continue to gaze at that light my sister gave me, and wonder what idea my subconscious will send me next, and where it’s come from.