Once, I think I heard singing under water.
I was diving off Koh Tao at Shark Island, leading a tour group under water, when a high pitched sound much like some kind of ethereal song drifted towards me. It sounded a long way off. It wasn’t whale song. I’ve heard a lot of that, the squeaks are usually short. It felt quite unreal.
I looked at the others. No one seemed to register what I had heard.
I am still not sure if I hallucinated. I wasn’t deep enough to get nitrogen delirium. And I’d only been under water about fifteen minutes.
Sometimes mysterious things happen.
I have experienced strangeness and have encountered the Wyrd, at times. Not often, but often enough to know that sometimes, things are inexplicable.
Writers need this kind of sense organ. Whether or not we can make sense of it, or translate it into some kind of experience is another thing entirely.
Sometimes, you just need to strap yourself to the mast and let it wash over you. Other times, you need to leap into the deep, and follow where the sirens call you.