So in the past few day, this Conductor has experienced some hallucinations. I could be suffering from insomnia. Perhaps it is the stress every Mother faces when having to take their wee one into seeing the doctor. But I am doubtful about that reasoning. For my baby, it’s a yearly checkup and cleaning. Oh yes reader(s), I do consider my baby with four legs and a tail that barks to be just that, my baby. Alas, I think my hallucinations are induced by the seeping fumes creeping up from the basement and or from across the hallway, via Pothead’s domain.
I mean what the fried eggs and burnt toast!
Today there seems to be a mad dash of the Maintenance Men working hard to make repairs to Pothead’s apartment. A new door with new locks. And I see there is a new sheet of dry wall too. Or at least this sheet was there about a half hour ago. What the smashed pickles!? Why is there so much screwing (I am speaking of the handheld device kind) ruckus going on? And voices too! God Christ! The blurred voices and gruff laughter that cannot be contained or denied, but needed to be shared with others.
Miss Strumpet is the only adult at home right now with her grandchild, watching over and offering assistance to the Maintenance Men. Must be nice to be playing hostess, devoted grandmother to grandchild all while managing a lit cigarette in the mouth. Oh! What! How can this be!? Well, perhaps if Miss Strumpet closed her front door, this Witness would not have seen such a questionable, most deplorable scene.
There is a NO SMOKING policy here.
Maybe the Maintenance Men are getting a little something’ more than their work done while residing, working at a leisurely pace in Pothead’s apartment.
Moving on and returning to my nightly visits and or said hallucinations.
I was first startled from sleep by a young girl wearing a blue dress and blondish, possibly dark brown hair covered in blood. I am assuming it was blood. If this young girl was not painted in blood, then I have no clue what that shit was dripping down her face and body. And mind you reader(s) that blood does look like black ink when it is night time and very little light shining through my bedroom window. I should take a moment and mention that I have a very intrusive but free nightlight provided by the businesses that are a mere fifty feet down from my apartment, just right outside my bedroom window. Joy and oh, so much jubilation! I can barely contain my smiles for the Jumbo Tron continuously lit 24/7, 365 right out side my bedroom window.
Hell, it is not as if I am paying their electric bill.
Now to describe my other hallucination. There was a man standing outside my bedroom door. It was a man, truly. I do not know how the mind remembers such slight details, but there it is. There was a man just standing right at my bedroom door. I mean what the f*ck!? I have a deadbolt for Christ’s sake across my front door. I would know immediately if someone was trying to enter my home. And of course, there is my little baby that barks, letting us both know whenever anyone passes let alone enter our quaint little home. So this darkly clad figure and I believe he was either old and or had some disfigurement that gave him the bent and or crooked look’. Keep in mind that neither I and or this figure made any attempts to interact with each other. Hell no! I just rolled my sleepy-startled eyes then rolled over and pulled the blankets around me. As if such a little ploy would ever work as a means of protection. Christ Almighty! The reasoning(s) we make at impulsive moments.
And finally, for my last hallucination that I have suffered these past few days, a freakin’ bag of chips. In hindsight, this free offer of chips would not be so bad. I mean we are at first saying this bag of chips’ is free. And did I mention that they were orange too? I know, again the slightest details the sleeping, near conscious mind, makes. Now, of course, I have dreamt of food(s), who has not had dreams and or fantasies about free food. But we are talking about it being way past midnight, and there is a freakin’ vending machine in my room pushing out bag(s) of chips to me.
I should take a moment to explain further that this vending machine was black with no neon-flashing buttons. There was a radiating whitish light from within the machine itself with a very polished glass screen. Again, reader(s), the details that we remember.
Now, where is or what is my wee one doing while Mummy is experiencing these questionable moments. Well, of course, she is in bed with me with her own covers, just staring at me, waiting for me to resettle myself so that she too can return to sleep. The life of pups. I call her a pup’, but she is not. No, my Little Bit is six years old and was considered the runt of the litter. Also, she is less than a foot long. I am ranting and rambling and raving quite possibly even raging, I know.
Hallelujah! This is the Delirium Train after all. You came aboard of your volition. Perhaps this Conductor has offered you treats of some sorts, again, you can always decline my offering(s).
A concluding thoughts for February 17, 2017…
I am not a racist. But I wonder does being raised in a mostly predominantly white community, does this mean that all nightly visitor are going to be white? And why the age difference?
How do you when and if there are nightly visitors in your home, how do you see them? Young? Old? Man? Woman? Some beast of Hell? Perhaps you have been chosen to be visited upon by some radio-active, deformed creature.
I do not watch that much television anymore. No! Now, these days this Conductor is reading with her newly established Kindle Unlimited account. Thank You, Amazon Prime for your most enticing, yearly offer. I mean over 10,000 books, magazines and other forms of literature for only $9.99 a month? Burning Hells and Whistling Bells, Yes Please!
Experts say that the sleeping mind’ does and can, in fact, recall facts better than the conscious mind. I mean can you believe that our tax-paying dollars are going towards this kind of scientific discoveries.
Mayhap all my delusions and or hallucinations are caused to and or are not limited by the exposure of the Black Mold building up within the walls of, we will call it BlackFields Apartments. A little more will be discussed about BlackFields Apartments, but not today reader(s), not today. No this little ditty was brought you by my niggling nightly intrusions to a good night sleep. And what is a good night of sleep’, anyway?