Miles

I have to kill one of them off. They’re getting to be too many. Damn it. I hate it when I have to

do that. So, who am I going to kill off this time? How is it going to happen? Is it going to be

gruesome? The last time something truly gruesome happened was when Kevin died. That was a bad

situation. I’m not sure she can handle another serial killer or violent attack like that. After awhile, it

stops being realistic. How could a person be at the center of so much tragedy? She already blames

herself. Sure, she’s the victim……….but she’s always the victim. She’s also the only common

denominator in all this destruction.

“Oh, hi. Come in. It’s ok. I was just talking to myself. It happens. You must be Miles, right?

Come! Come! Don’t look so shy. I’m not going to hurt you. Into the den of the crazy person. Are you

scared? Don’t smirk. Are you scared? You should be scared. I’d be scared, talking to me. I’m pretty

famous, you know. Ok, maybe you don’t know, being one of the people who lives in,” She gestures,

making quotes with her fingers, “’reality’.”

“Wait………..don’t you know?” he says, looking at her a bit puzzled.

“Well………..um…………no…………I mean I guess a few people read my blog, but it’s not like I’m

really famous.” She says, giving him a quizzical look.

“Oh……..well…………you are, just so you know. Thank you for agreeing to speak to me. People

are very curious about you.”

“Well………..I’m sure people have a lot of opinions……..I can’t say I want to know everything, but

I’m an open book. Maybe if I just keep blogging and talking eventually people will learn and gain some

perspective before I actually have to listen to any of them speak anymore. Ha! ha!”
 “Right. That’s actually not a bad idea. So, shall we start? I must say you seem remarkably

lucid.”

She shoots him a puzzled, hurt look, like he’s just said something insulting and stupid. “Thank

you…. Do you even know what that means?”

“What? Lucid?” He looks genuinely confused.

“Yes. Lucid. Do you know what it means?” She asks earnestly, like she’s really expecting him

not to know and is prepared to tell him.

“Yes………………………………….do you?”

“Yes. Good. I was just checking because if you’re foolish and pretentious enough to think

you’re qualified to tell my state of mind, then I wonder what else you don’t know. Is there anything

else we need to establish?”

“What………I……….um……..” He’s completely lost for words. “I……didn’t. I guess……”

She leans back, crosses her legs, and then puts her arms on the arm rests, in a regal pose for a

moment. Then she gestures for him to get on with it, quickly.

“Ok…………….so…………..what’s it been like?” He looks up at her and then back down, fidgets in

his chair, and then looks back up. He’s puzzled and uncomfortable, unsure where to begin.

“What’s it like? What’s it not like? I’ve been like this since I was a baby, at least I assume. It’s

my normal state. There’s so much to say………. I mean it could’ve started with abuse. Lots of times it

starts with abuse, but frankly I remember doing it long before I remember the abuse. You know they

used to beat me, right? Well, I always grew up afraid, and I always grew up daydreaming. When I was
daydreaming, I wasn’t afraid, at least not usually. There were bad things, too, at night. It wasn’t

always good.”

“I thought this daydreaming condition was always supposed to be a relief. Why was it bad?”

“I don’t know that it is always supposed to be a relief. I think it’s an act of creativity. My brain

was always running wild, and I couldn’t stop it. Outside, there was nothing but negativity and

discomfort. There were sounds, horrible sounds, itchy clothing, ugly furniture, dark rooms, bright sun,

people who ate like they were in a barnyard. Then there was the abuse, the screaming, yelling, hitting,

hair-pulling, kicking……..what they called ‘discipline’.” She scoffs.

“What about at night? Tell me about the horrors.”

“Right well, you know I have sensitivity to light as well as everything else. I hate bright sunlight,

and I hate the dark. I’ve always been completely terrified of the dark. Every shadow contained a

murderer. Naturally, the combination of my sensitivities, which might have been caused by

disconnection due to my daydreaming, and the fact that I couldn’t stop daydreaming all the time, day

and night, every minute…….well unfortunately they merged. Except this time, I was sure it was real.

During the day, I knew I was daydreaming. I mean I’m sure all children do this. They hear things. I’m

not talking about the hallucinations yet. I mean every little bump and moan, rustle, click, tap, every

little sound that can drive you mad in a night. I was certain, really certain, that someone was about to

break in and do terrible things to me every night, as far back as I can remember. I used to hide under

the covers shaking violently and crying. “

“This went on for how long?”

 “Maybe……..well……………I’m 40, so…………maybe…….35 years. It’s actually gotten a little bit

better recently. I only get this way when something bad has happened in the news nearby.”

“Is that how the insomnia started?”

“I assume. This has been going on so long that at some point you just accept that your head

has changed and never will be the same. At first you feel crazy. Then you accept that crazy is relative,

and who gives a crap?”

“Ok, let’s get into that……..the hallucinations. What’s that like?”

“It doesn’t feel like a hallucination at first. You just feel so tired. You just want to sleep, and

you can’t. Your body starts to ache, and your mind starts to wander. It starts to fall partly asleep, and

you start to dream, but your body won’t quite fall asleep. Then your body gets used to feeling that

way, so it can’t relax out of it. Your mind can only take so much. Your body is constantly fighting to

stay awake, and your mind is desperate to dream. At first, you just stay up all night, trying to make

yourself relax. There’s only so long you can do that, though, before you start having in-between

states. It feels like you’re literally half awake and half asleep. You’ll be sitting up in your bed staring at

your alarm clock and wondering if you’re really there or out in the street. You can spend an hour

sitting there trying to figure it out. Then years go by, and nothing improves. Your mind and body

acclimate to a new state of being. Reality becomes an old wives’ tale”.

“You blogged about something you call ‘mixed reality’. Is that related to your daydreaming

disorder?”

“First of all, I wouldn’t call it a disorder. It’s just how my mind works. Many people live with

this condition just fine. Many become authors or otherwise great thinkers. The worst they do is go on
huge daydreaming binges for days and end up not doing much with their lives. They wake up fat and

drooling, much like many rock stars minus the booze and STDs.

“The reason things started to get foggy is due to the insomnia. That really screws with your

head. You start to feel sick all the time, and you want to sleep, but you hurt too much, and so your

brain just……needs to dream anyway. Those are different than the daydreams. You start to sort of

really dream all the time, even when you’re awake. You’ll be seeing one thing and somehow seeing

something else at the same time. It’s like the two visions overlap, or like you’re going back and forth

so rapidly between the two that you’re thoroughly confused and don’t know where you’re at anymore.

Plus, the isolation is enough to make you go mad. You’re too sick to go out, and the world is too……….”

She sighs. A look of pain comes across her face.

“So, it’s because of the insomnia that you stay here, in this room? I thought it was something

about the daylight or the noises.”

“It is. I mean, it’s really both, but the reason I started intentionally staying home is because of

the noises. Certain sounds are so awful to me that I just want to cover my ears and scream. Plus

there’s the sunlight. I really can’t stand being in sunlight. I used to live with it. I would dread the

spring, but I would weather it. Then as I got older, between the sounds, the light, the itches, the

smells, the loud noises everywhere, I just realized I’d had enough. It wasn’t worth it to torture myself

this way, so I stayed home. Then I’d be too sick to go out because of the insomnia, and I wouldn’t be

sure what state of mind I was in anyway. I started confining myself to this room. Years went by, and I

never left.”

“Ok, but the insomnia isn’t a problem right now…….. I mean, how are you feeling? When I said

you seemed lucid……….well you’re not always lucid, though, are you?”
 “Lucid is relative. Your reality, that you’re so certain is real, is no better than mine. It’s true

that after awhile, even when I’m feeling fine, images start to creep up. I woke up once and was feeling

very foggy. I saw, with my own eyes, a woman standing naked in front of me, right by my bed. I was

probably partly asleep, but I was awake enough to be fully aware of my surroundings. I didn’t think I

was at the supermarket or anything. My eyes were feeling very strained, but yet I saw her very clearly.

Then she disappeared. We hear stories all the time of ghosts, vibrations, and other apparitions. There

are stories of visions……..

“Then, there’s dreaming. All of what’s happening to us, when you think about it, is really in our

heads. You see me, but you don’t really see me with your eyes. You see me with your mind. Your

mind gathers all the information and decides that I’m here. When you go to bed, your eyes see

something else. Your mind thinks just as well as during the day, if not better, because it’s not confined

to what you think is reality. Your eyes move back and forth, following your mind. Your body may

move and react. Your mind is your reality. So, when I’m daydreaming, my mind lives in a different

reality of my own exploration. When I’m night dreaming, I’m just like you. I’m in a state that we all go

through. It can’t by even common logic be a ‘crazy’ state if it’s something our bodies require, can it?

“Your body lives in the world you’ve consented to live in. Your mind agrees to interpret the

information your body has given you in a certain way, so that we can all compare notes together and

understand each other. My body is so exhausted from trying to win a battle against my mind………….at

night that it has slowly given up that fight. My eyes……….seem to see what my mind is ready to at

times. I guess that by ‘lucid’ you mean my eyes and mind are in agreement with yours. We agree that

we’re in this room, sitting on 2 old, comfy chairs.”

“well…………………..ok……………………I guess………….but you don’t always feel the same. Will you

just tell me how you’re feeling? Sometimes you say that you’re feeling bad and can hardly get up.
Other times you feel awake and inspired and can write a thousand pages if only people would shut up

and leave you alone. Where are you, on that continuum?”

“Well, physically I feel about as comfortable as I can be. I’m never 100% comfortable, but

relatively ok. Mentally………….well, I’m talking about myself, and that’s often inspiring. I’d say I feel

good…………definitely, compared to bad, I feel good.”

“Excellent. If you start feeling less, just tell me. Ok, next. Tell me about some of the people

you’ve known. Tell me about Kevin.”

“Well, it’s kind of you to give my characters such credence like that, but let’s not talk like

they’re real. Kevin was a character I invented when I was around 13. It didn’t start out bad. At first he

was just my main character’s friend. Then he became an increasingly needy friend. Then he became a

possessive friend. Then my character would start having other friends, and he’d get really mad. Then

she started dating, and he got really, really mad. She was already being abused at home, so she didn’t

really notice when he slowly started becoming abusive. He just seemed to need her a lot, so she

couldn’t turn him away. One night he beat her up. After that, she tried to stay away, but then he

started stalking her.” Her eyes wander over the walls. She’s been talking like she’s reciting a story

she’s told a thousand times, but her gaze travels slowly over every corner of the room. “The walls

aren’t actually moving, are they?”

“No. I thought you were feeling fine today. Why, what’s going on?”

“I feel fine, but you know. It’s just………my brain……….. I don’t think it knows what’s real

anymore.”

“I thought there wasn’t reality……”

 “That doesn’t mean sometimes I don’t wish for just a little more agreement. Please

consent………… Oh well. I can’t worry about this. The lines on the wallpaper are just wiggling a bit. It’s

no big deal. I can handle that. No crisis.”

“Ok, well, let me know if you get tired and want to stop or something. So, tell me about Kevin’s

death. Do you mind? It’s not too traumatic, is it?”

“No……….it’s been several years now. Things just came to a head. It was bound to happen. I

needed something emotional to happen in my storylines because I was becoming bored, and the Kevin

character was just becoming too tiresome. My character was avoiding her home town because he’d

always show up in her rear view mirror with a knife. He tried to kidnap her on many occasions. She

couldn’t enjoy herself anymore. She was living in constant fear. So, one day, she got a vision. She was

very psychic. She got a vision that everything was going to come to a head, and it was going to be bad.

Anyway, he followed her out to a remote location. She saw him but knew he probably had a lot of

guns, which it turned out was true, so she went out somewhere where there wouldn’t be a lot of

people. She called 911, but since she mentioned the word ‘vision’ they didn’t believe her, even when

he was actually following her and smiling with a knife in his hand. She didn’t really think it all through,

but she didn’t know what to do. She looked out the window and saw him coming, so she just took off,

and he followed her. She found an old empty building and was planning to just try and stay alive until

the police came, but they never came. She talked to him and tried to be his friend. He cut her once……

and then again……..and then again. By now he’d taken her phone………..and then he got her on the

ground & just started stabbing her. She knew it was over. She knew………..” She looks down and gulps

then quickly recovers and resumes. “He was leaning over somehow and then she saw a gun in his

front shirt pocket. It was one of those small guns that looked like a toy. She grabbed it and shot him.

She fell back and was just bleeding there. Someone must’ve heard the commotion or seen the cars
and wondered because they came by and found her……….. Anyway, yadda yadda, she just barely

survived. It was really traumatic, but eventually she was hailed as a hero and survivor. She still can’t

cook or do anything that involves any cutting, but she’s ok.”

“Ok, so…………….how did you come to………know this story?”

“What do you mean? I know I get emotional about this stuff, but they’re just stories. It’s what

my mind can’t help but do. When characters get tiresome and I’m starting to feel empty, I have to kill

one of them off. This isn’t real.”

“What other characters have you killed off?”

“Well…..over the years…a few. Sarah died of some horrible disease when she was 12. Ed had

an aneurism after a fight that grew violent. Kevin……….well, that’s the most gruesome.”

“Ok, you don’t know their last names, do you?”

“I don’t think they have last names. What are you talking about?”

“Ok, well…………..Kevin………….what was the real Kevin like? How did you meet him?”

“Kevin is a fictional character. I made him up. What’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you

listening to me? I don’t know who you’re mistaking him for, but there’s no one I knew named Kevin.”

“Ok, I just………….Just…………try to think back. Did you remember reading about a man named

Kevin in the paper a few months ago? He died.”

“I’m sure there are lots of people named Kevin who die. What does that have to do with one

of my fantasy storylines?”
 “It’s just…………..the Kevin you described in your blog is a lot like the Kevin who died. He had

dark brown hair and wore the same style of clothing. You drew a picture of him for your blog, and it

looks remarkably like him. The details in your story………..maybe you made them all up, but somehow

your reality got it right. He attacked a girl with short brown curly hair. He stabbed her 4 times, and she

somehow survived. She shot him.”

Horror-stricken, she runs her fingers through her hair. “It’s not true. It’s not.”

“They saw it happen on the surveillance video. Then she just ran off and disappeared. They

assumed she went somewhere and bled to death……….. They’ve been looking for her. One of the

reasons they might not have found her, is she may have been holed up in a room somewhere. ”

She runs her hand over her abdomen, confusion all over her face. It’s not true. She would

know if it were true.

“Last year, Kevin’s father Ed died of an aneurism. There was a gunshot wound to his right hand

from a domestic fight earlier that night with Kevin.”

“It’s just a coincidence,” she said, barely audible. “This all happened so many years ago in my

mind anyway. I don’t know why it’s coming up now. It’s just a story. It’s JUST A STORY.”

“Ok,” he whispered, “I’m sure I’m just mistaken. If I’d have known………….I wouldn’t have

bothered you with all this nonsense. I’ll email you later.”

He stepped out. In the hallway, they were waiting. A woman approached, eagerly.

“Well?”
 “I don’t know why…………but I don’t think she did it. I just can’t see her doing that. I don’t

understand this. I don’t know anything. I thought that…….since we were becoming friends and she

was answering me………….that maybe if I interviewed her I could get something out, but…… I don’t

know how this could all have happened. I’ve been following her blog for years. It’s extraordinary. She

doesn’t even believe in insanity, but she knows her world is somehow changing. I can’t even bring

myself to say it. She’s not insane. She’s NOT. She just……….walls move.”

“Ok, but there’s some serious business here. A man, who just happened to be the mortal

enemy of her main character, was shot a few months ago, and she just happened to know every

detail.”

“I don’t know. Maybe she dreamed about him. Maybe she just knows things. Her character

was reminiscing last week, and she brought it up. Then I looked over her old blogs from years ago.

She blogged about this incident 5 years ago. She knew every detail. She even had the right address.”

“She has cameras all over this place. They were installed after the attack when she was a kid.

She hasn’t left this house or even her bedroom in over 10 years.”

Back in her room, the woman slowly went to the mirror and pulled up her shirt. She caressed

the scars lovingly. “That was a good storyline. I’ve decided who’s going to die this time. I’m tired of

characters who don’t understand me. I think the young man I have in mind is going to push her out a

window. She’ll grab onto him to try and save herself, but they’ll fall down together. He’ll hit his head

against a rock and die. Miles? Miles, I forgot to tell you something! I’m feeling much better now.”