Wednesday, May 6, 2020


I was awakened one night
from a sound sleep
and dreams I have since forgotten
by a humming noise in my bedroom.
A low humming noise
and a bright green light
shining out from the bottom of my closet door.
Something in my bedroom closet
was shining bright green,
bright green and humming as well.
And I was half-asleep still,
so I wasn’t afraid.
I wasn’t afraid, just curious, confused.
Mostly confused.
So I got up out of my bed,
stood up and walked around some piles of laundry,
a bit unsteadily, still drowsy,
walked over to my closet and opened the door.
And what I saw there,
what I saw in my bedroom closet,
I didn’t know what I was looking at.
It was a machine of some kind,
made of a dull silver metal,
floating in the air,
just above my shoe rack,
just floating there with that humming sound,
a bright green light in the center of it,
and it had silver tentacle arms
that curled in the air,
poised to strike,
like angry snakes.
And I didn’t know what this thing was,
or where it came from,
or how it improbably appeared in my bedroom closet,
but I felt this strong urge,
this absolute need,
this desperate desire
to touch it.
And I reached out a shaking hand,
reached out my trembling hand
to this machine,
this little machine that seemed angry somehow,
a compulsion I could not understand or control,
and I touched it.
I lightly grazed the light green light at its center.
Then it vanished.
I felt very sick then,
a wave of nausea washed over me,
and something inside me felt like it exploded.
Before my eyes,
little white pinpricks of light appeared,
and I sank to the floor.
The room was spinning for a moment,
before everything faded to black.
I woke up several hours later
on the floor in front of my bedroom closet.
I felt fine
but had an intense craving for pancakes.

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