old haunts

the dreams are really starting to get to me.  they used to be just flat-out nightmares, with demonic entities chasing me around, nuclear holocaust and death, the usual stuff.  now it seems the residual dementia in this house is seeping into my brain.  just below the surface of normalcy and order, there is this insidious chaos, to an extent i never realized.  it’s like, in waking life i just manage to keep things under control, whether it’s my surroundings or my mental state.  but in my subconscious mind, all hell has broken loose, and the orderly and predictable landmarks disintegrate out from under me.  i realize the stability was just an illusion, and the disarray was creeping in all along. 

then, waking to escape that surreality, i find that this one with its relative calm routine doesn’t reassure me at all.  instead of relief, i feel like one more layer of sanity has been peeled away, leaving me one step closer to succumbing to the atmosphere of dementia.  maybe as i clean out old closets full of medieval implements, it releases evil-fumes!  but i continue to try to organize my physical surroundings, in an attempt to ward off the feeling of coming unglued.  and that’s how a new year is ushered in, here in the Vortex Of Evil.  

meanwhile, out in the real world, the relentless facebook albums of holiday cheer and gift piles and feeding frenzies continue to pour in, making my petrified existence sound more scrooge-like than ever!  but i don’t intend it that way.  it’s just one more way it feels surreal, as it does when you come to a screeching halt while life moves on around you.  or maybe i’ll look back on this episode as a calm island in a raging flood, before being consumed.  

i wonder if this is how it all began for lovecraft…. i feel i should inject some blasphemous flopping fish-frogs from out of space/time or something, at this juncture.  alas, my melodrama is so much more mundane.   i’ve just about finished with the closet of horrors.  in the remotest part of it, i found old baby blankets and cloths in with the pure wool blue tartan blankets, dating far back into the last millennium.  (hey, it’s technically true, and sounds more impressive than just old.)  i’m sure more fumes were released into the atmosphere, if gagging and choking is any indication, but maybe it’s my way of beating ghosts into submission.  or at least their souvenir collections.

Leave a Reply