I find the first folder while I am only reading about it. It should not be there. The name is too specific: “Preparation of the body for voluntary immobility.” I do not remember creating it.
I open it.
Inside there is a short note.
“You have not started yet.”
I close it quickly.
I do not know why it unsettles me so much.
In the mechanism of initiation into surrender, the body does not react to impact, but to the idea of impact. Reading becomes a form of anticipatory contact. There is no physical contact yet, but there is already response.
I keep reading.
Another note appears on the screen.
It was not there before.
“You have read this more times than you remember.”
I freeze.
That should not be possible.
I go back.
The page does not change.
It is the same.
But a new line has appeared under the paragraph I just read.
“You are imagining you are the reader.”
I do not know when I start noticing my body.
Only that I notice it more.
A photograph loads automatically in another open folder.
It is a room similar to the one I was reading about.
A chair.
A fixed light.
Nothing else.
The file date is two days from now.
I close the laptop.
When I open it again, the folder no longer has the same name.
Now it reads: “First session: you have not accepted yet.”
I do not remember accepting anything.
But I do not remember refusing either.
Something feels strange.
Not fear.
Attention.
As if something is starting to fix itself onto me from within.
I keep reading about domination and submission practices.
And the more I read, the more small contradictions appear in the text.
Sentences that were not there before.
Examples that feel too personal.
References to sensations I have not had yet.
And yet I recognize them.
As if they had already happened.
Just not in the correct order.
A new note appears.
“This is not information. It is perception training.”
I delete it.
But the screen reconstructs it.
Below it another line appears:
“Deleting it is also part of the exercise.”
I pause.
I realize something uncomfortable.
I am more aware of what I feel than what I read.
And it excites me slightly.
It should not.
Or maybe it should.
The doubt is not about the text.
It is about me reading the text.
Next folder.
“First reactions log.”
It is empty.
Until I look at it.
Then a single line appears.
“You have already started.”
And for the first time I do not know if I am reading something new…
or remembering something that has not happened yet.
My neck I am not moving I should…
