• Jeff South

Blogtober 2021: Bed


"I'm you." That's what it said. "I'm you."

I don't know what to do with that other live my life in perpetual terror.


The bedroom where all the noise has been occurring sits quiet and still. I pushed the tipped dresser back into to place and sat on the edge of the bed in tears yesterday. What is happening to me? Sandy and I stayed up most of the night talking through it all. She asked me to share anything that was bothering me, anything that I needed to get off my chest. It was a nice conversation that took me back to our dating days when we would just talk for hours about any topic we could think of and never get tired. Of course, we never had to discuss the effects of paranormal activity manifested by something deep in my subconscious back then. That's a new twist.

"Maybe I shouldn't go this weekend," she said. "You shouldn't be alone."

"You need to go. I'll be fine. Besides, I'm going to go to the therapist again. Maybe I'll have a breakthough."


A video call drones on in the background while I stare out the office door and down the hallway. The bedroom door is open and I'm wait for something to happen. Maybe a lamp will levitate. My journal lays open on the desk in front of me. At the top I've scrawled LIST OF THINGS STRESSING ME OUT in my awful penmanship. My teachers always criticized my handwriting. My desk and locker were always messy, too. My dorm room was always in disarray. Even now my work desk is covered in papers , notebooks, pens, books, empty wrappers, and half finished glasses of water. Is that what's stressing me out? I jot it down, even though I'm not really convinced. At least I've added something to the list now. That's a start. Now, can I finish it? I've always struggled with finishing what I start. If I'm being honest with myself, I hate that about myself.

A click from down the hall pulls me from the list.

The lamp on the nightstand next to bed is on and I'm sure it was off.

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