I woke up this morning sitting on the front porch drinking a cup of coffee. I don’t know what to make of that. It’s hard to describe the moment, but I literally woke up in my rocking chair, confused and wondering where the hell I was. Beside me on the floor was a lukewarm cup of coffee. I’d been out there at least long enough for the coffee to cool off.
Where do you go from there? Blame it on sleep-walking? Wonder if you’re going crazy? Who gets up, in their sleep, makes coffee and takes it out on the front porch? I was somewhat aware, at least, because I put on a robe (not that it helped much – I was freezing).
I haven’t mentioned it to anyone yet. Not sure I want to. Maybe that’s why I’m writing it down here. None of the people I hang out with are Net-savvy. No one I know reads anything about me unless it’s posted to their news feed on Facebook or they can get an automatic update from your Twitter. Neither of which I use all that much.
I’ve always worried that I would start losing it someday. Given my track record, that’s a reasonable assumption. Not that any on thing is worrisome, but if you stack it all up, semi-conscious episodes atop prophetic dreams atop conversation that you don’t remember atop friends being convinced that you’re sometimes “someone else”, and none of it looks good.
I’m not freaked out just yet. But I feel like I should be. Hardly a week passes that I don’t have at least some lost time. So far no one has decided I’m schizophrenic. So far I haven’t hurt myself or anyone else. So far it’s just been odd moments set against painfully banal, work-filled days.
I don’t think I’m crazy. But who ever knows? How do you know when you’re crazy? Is there a test packet I can buy at CVS?
However one parses it, this is not good.