F̴̰̆ī̴̙r̴̹̀e̵̫͊ ̵̗̀w̷̦̃a̴̞̅l̵̜̉k̸̞͋ ̷̣͋w̴̛̗ǐ̷̲t̴͈̊h̷͖̀ ̴̰̍ḿ̶͕ë̸͓́

There’s this place. It’s a high place. It’s not a mountain; not a hill. It’s just, a high place. Sometimes when I feel down, for whatever reason (be it random depression, good movie, book or game that came to an end), I go there. There are almost never anyone up there, and there’s this field where you can sit and watch the view. It takes about thirty minutes to go there from the city where I live. On a good day, sitting on that field, I can see the tall buildings in the city. As the sun sets, the light reflects in the windows of the tallest one; blinding me. It’s absolutely tranquil.

Through the years, the need for visiting this field has grown. I don’t feel unstable, yet I sometimes feel that reality and my dreams overlap. During my night adventures, I often have a problem telling dream and reality apart. When I was younger, the sleepwalking was just a “thing” I did. A thing that my parents and I had to get used to, and find ways of handling (Which they did. Not by planning, but simply by adapting to whatever method worked to get me to go back to bed without drama). Growing older, it became more troublesome, especially when I moved out of my parents house. Living alone while studying, there was no longer anyone to keep an eye on me and my nightly activities. The risk of crossing some line was always there. But as far as I know, it took many years until any lines were crossed. A few years back, the first line was crossed when I had a nightmare where my necklace was strangling me. To get out of this horrible situation, I ripped my necklace to pieces, spreading the pieces all over the bedroom. I also swallowed a piece of it, for some reason.

I like to call this the “line of violence”. It was the first time I had done any other activity other than talking, walking and opening the occasional door. On top of that, I had used violence, plus putting something in my mouth that I then swallowed. How can I know all this though, since I was sleepwalking? I have mentioned this in previous posts, and I usually describe my sleepwalking like being at the cinema. I see and remember everything, but I’m not in control (My subconscious me is, or Stranger, as I call him). The line of violence made us remove all objects in the bedroom that I could grab and throw, as a precaution. There were still other types of reoccurring incidents, however.

My most common adventure, which happens almost ę̦͚͉̥̟͆̌̀̈̀͝v̧̻̹͇̹͋̾̒̌̅͠ͅȩ̛̠̥̻̞̥̑̏̽̽̕r̛͔̭̜̻̲̲̾͐̀̋͝y̨̛̖͖̘̙̮͛̒̓́͝ night, and has been for the last ten years, is some sort of odd phobia. I sit up in my bed, and feel like there’s something in my throat, or that I can’t breathe. I then throw myself out of the bed, and run out of the room to drink water from the tap in the kitchen. In an attempt to stop myself from doing this, I now always keep a bottle of water next to my bed. I still have the incidents, but now I drink from the bottle instead, which makes the night slightly calmer.

Managing my nightmares has become easier lately. I write them all down, in great detail; as soon as I wake up. The idea is that the dreams that fit a certain pattern, will be included in a horror story that I’m working on.

The problems that are still unsolved, though. The first one is the fact that I may cross more lines. I crossed another one just a few weeks ago, when I left the bed, opened the balcony door and went out on the balcony. The reason? There were “bats” in the apartment, and I had to let them out. To do this, I opened the balcony window, and stood there until I woke up and came to my senses. What if I had decided that the apartment was suddenly on fire? Would I have jumped out the window to a certain death? The best way we have been able to solve this problem so far, has been to block the door with a large AC unit. So far I haven’t been able to move large objects while sleeping, and so far this has stopped me from entering the the balcony again. The second problem, is my grip of reality. By each year, I feel how my grip is getting looser and looser. When I was a kid, I would realise where and who I was rather quickly after I woke up. Even when waking up outside of my bed, I would understand the situation, shrug, and go back to bed. These days it’s getting harder and harder. After waking up outside of bed, in the middle of the night, I can sometimes stand in the dark for several minutes, just to get back my sense of reality. It’s hard to describe it accurately, but it feels like I’m not there, or that I’m still in a dream, trying to understand what’s going on.

Ą̡̦͔͖̖̋̏͐̑̉́s̘͓͖̯̯͕̑͐̐̓̌̿ ̲͉̹͖̰̅̈͋̈͐̊͜m̜̻̝̠̘͍͋̐̍̅́͝y̧̛͙̝̝̝̮̒͋̊͗́ ̹͕͇̹͓̖̋́̇̐͛̕ŝ͎̟͈͔̝́͌̑̚͜͠a̡͙͖̖̖̭̋̃̄̋͝͝n͙͈̻̳̭͙͛̂̑̆́̇i̡̹̙͕͙̞̎̈́̈́͗̿̕t̼͎̳͈̯̝͗͗͆͆͆͠y̛̛̮͓̗͍͕̤̏̈́̓͆ ̧͉̻̤̺͔̔̾̃̂̚͝s̨̨͔̬̙̣̾͛̿̂̒͊l̨̰̭̘̻̥͗̊̈́͂͌̚o̯̭͈̟͕͓̿͋̍̀͊͝w̢̢̮͉͕̯̌̽̓̀̄͠ļ̜̖̥͇͖̂̂́̀̂͝ẙ̨͈͇̤̻̊́͋͠͝ͅ ̝͚̰̪̠̋̍̔͛̽̿͜s̢͙͖̱̙̪̏̊̋̍̓̋l̢̝̞̭̰̪͌̑̓̈́͋̚î̥̪͇̺̣͉̊̃̇̋̔p̨̟̺͇̟̰̅͐͋́̇́s̨̨̪̗͙̩͂̊͊̇̈́̍ ̡̢͍̬̮̌̑̇͂͋͠ͅą̪̮̦̠̲̽͌̀̍͆̐w̳̜͖͕̼͔̉͂̅͌̈͠ă̢͕͕̫̭̯̅́̀͠͠y̡̩̤͎̰̘̏͒͐͂́͠, other parts of me become clearer. I’m able to work on a project more efficiently these days. I have always been hyperactive, so for someone on the outside it may not look like anything has changed, but I can notice the differences. I can work on a project for a long period of time, without the need for sleeping or eating. I’ve always been creative, and this is another part of me that has been going into overdrive lately. I have so many wonderful ideas that are constantly popping into my head. I write them down with as much detail as I can, and when I read what I wrote, several days later, it still sounds fantastic. I just hope I can realise some of these ideas before my mind is too corrupted to be of any more use. I feel that at some point, my mind will simply degrade to a state where I can’t think straight, and where the well of ideas has simply run dry.

Maybe, in ten years or so, I will be that crazy aunt in the family. The crazy cat lady who speaks nonsense and never gets anything done. She mostly sits around all day, counting stamps and arguing with people on the TV. I just hope that this is nothing more than a weird feeling. A side effect of my hyper active mind. That my sanity is here to stay, and instead, some changes to the way I think are simply misinterpreted. I hope I will have a happy ending. That I will live together with my partner, until we grow old and die of age. That at least some of my work will reach the outside of my notebooks, and that I will live a healthy and stable life.

I’m not really good at drawing these days, but I wanted to attempt to depict the feeling of a creative period where insanity grows in ones head. The drawing below is the result of that. It’s a dark itching feeling, like stress, that stay with you for a very long time. So far it has always gone away, and only come back during my most intense periods of work . However, these periods have become increasingly intense lately. In one sense, I’m grateful, as I can create beautiful things that I’m proud of; but on the other hand, I feel that it comes with a price. A price of a slowly deteriorating mind.

DSC_0076

Ì̸̢̙͔̪́͌͝’̶̡̰̩̫̓̓̈͝m̴̬̼̪̫̒͊̀͝ ̸̤̯͚̘́̄̈̓n̵̡̢̛̥̈͊͐ͅo̸̱͔̘͔͆̽͂̚t̷̯̥͌͆̍͜͝ͅ ̶̙̘̰̜́̽͋͝ś̴̞͕̣̰͒̊͗u̶̢̼͍̭̓̉̊̏r̵̝̗͈̖̓̃͊̉ḛ̷͉̮͎̓̇̈́̆ ̸̨͙͓̻̓͌̓̿i̵̹̼̝͈͐̊̿̅f̸̟̮̻͇̃́̕͝ ̶̣͕̬͈͑̈́̒̈t̶̡̨̫̘͑̍́̾ḥ̴̡̻͉́̈̊͗į̵̣͇͎͗͋͆̚s̷̰̟̹̺̔̐̒͝ ̸̱̠̻̃͗̀̇ͅi̵̲̜̗̞͛̊̽͝s̷̤̺̘̭͆̓͋̑ ̴̲̳̦̬͑̊͆́r̶̮͓̬͍͐̇̀̈́ę̷̗̫̔̓̀͝ͅǎ̴̢̧̩̥̀̎͘l̶͎͚̬̱̐͂̕͝i̶̻̰̣͐̒͊́͜t̴̡̢̼̥̆̅͛͠y̴̯̪̞̞͛͊͛̎

Stranger – Chapter 8 – My face is on fire, and my bottle lids are missing

A few nights ago Stranger suddenly woke up to the fact that our face was on fire. Obviously this requires immediate action. Luckily, I always keep a bottle of water next to my bed (I need to drink a lot during the night due to all the other weird activities Stranger is up to). So acting quickly, stranger removes the lid and pours the water over my face. Of course when you get water on your face, you normally wake up; which I did. Sitting there, quite confused and wet, I realized that sleeping in the now very wet bed would be difficult for the remainder of the night.

Not much sleep was had that night.

As a side note, the lids of my water bottles and medicine bottles, have all gone missing during the same night. This is nothing I can recall from the “Stranger records”, and I haven’t found them yet.

Well, at least we’re not on fire anymore.

Stranger – Chapter 7 – Anything can be a monster with the right type of imagination

So my wife and I have divided chores in our household in certain categories. Some chores she will take care of and do it however she pleases, and some I will. Others we will both take whenever there is time. One chore my wife is responsible for is taking the laundry, this includes folding the clothes. However, when she folds the clothes, she places them on the bed. Then we are both responsible for taking our own folded clothes to where we store them (we currently store them separately for no specific reason, it just became like that). We are both lazy in our own ways, and I’m lazy when it comes to putting away my clothes once they have been folded. Thus, they end up spread out around my side of the bed. Currently, one pile is laying on the air conditioning unit next to my bed, and another one on the windowsill next to my bed.

A few nights ago Stranger was on watch as usual, when he suddenly detected something straight out of a horror movie. Between the folded clothes on the windowsill, were red glowing eyes. There were hundreds of them, and they were staring right at us, ready to attack. This of course required immediate evacuation. Stranger acted without hesitation and grabbed the cover, and then swiftly made his way out on the balcony. Standing out there, I woke up, and Stranger let go of the controls. I knew what had happened, but the feeling of being confused and terribly frightened had me standing out there for a few minutes before I could go back inside. I double checked the clothes so that nothing was hiding under them, and then went back to sleep.

Next to the clothes is a pile of socks I’ve been picking from every morning when I’m about to take my morning shower. Last night Stranger sensed a disturbance in the force coming from the pile of socks. His instincts are as always, 100% correct and the socks had turned into snakes! He quickly leaped into battle against the overwhelming number of foes (I have a lot of socks, and change daily, sometimes twice a day depending on what I do during the day). It was a long and hard battle, but I never doubted Strangers abilities and he obviously managed to take care of the threat.

When I woke up the traces of the battle were still there in plain sight. My first thought was that I might need to call a medic to the scene, but there were clearly no survivors. There were socks spread out literally everywhere in the room (I even had one tucked up in my armpit).

Stranger triumphs, yet again.

Thanks Stranger!

 

Stranger – Chapter 6 – The embodiment of Stranger

I actually had a dream about Stranger last night (He’s a lot taller than I thought). He was standing in one of the bedroom corners (The one where he saw the tractor before) with a very fancy hat. I think it was a top hat but I didn’t quite pay attention to the details (also it was dark). He told me that bread is numbers and if I don’t move the squirrel gets it. The weird thing about this is that I’m unsure in what language he said it. I remember the dream quite clearly, or rather I wrote it down as soon as I woke up, but for some reason I can’t remember if he said it in English or Swedish.

I might need an exorcism.
Also, I couldn’t find a squirrel anywhere so I think he was lying (Or he’s hiding it somewhere).

Creating a character named Stranger has obviously not been the best idea ever given the consequences. But no use turning back now. We’re having so much fun.

Anyway I got an idea today that might stop me from running around during the nights. I will buy a bell of some sort and attach it to my ankle or wrist. Hopefully it wont make any sound as I lay in bed, and wake me up when I stand up to move. The problem is that if I’m too active my wife might get disturbed by it.

Only one way to find out I guess.

Another thing that has happened a lot recently, is that Stranger believes there’s a spider or some sort of insect under the cover. I don’t usually write about this since it would become basically the same text every time. Even if experience it differently every time it happens. I think there was one incident last night or the night before where Stranger threw my cover down on the floor. He saw something on or under it and tried to save us from it. The floor wasn’t very dirty, but not really clean either. So I guess I have to clean it more often.

Stranger – Chapter 5 – Farmville

Rough night. Stranger went up at least five times to drink water for no apparent reason (I doubt he was thirsty every single time). Then at one point he noticed an evil tractor in one of the bedroom corners with its engine on. So to make it turn off he threw my pillow at it, which I then woke up to find was missing a while later (and had to go fetch). Turns out it was the air conditioner unit, and not an evil tractor. Easy mistake to make in the dark I guess.

Stranger – Chapter 4 – There’s a snake in my boot

August 8th, 2016

Some of the dates are a bit mixed, but I write them down as they come to mind or as they happen. Most of these are written down in my journal.

I have to consider removing those curtains. They tend to play a big role in my nightly adventures. This time they did not turn into battleship cannons however. This time they turned into snakes. Blue snakes in fact. And they seemed determined to bite me, probably killing me in the process. Naturally stranger is always fast to act. He swiftly dashed out of bed and quickly moved towards the door. My wife woke up and asked what the hell I was up to. Foolish question though, and Stranger paid her no mind as he made his escape. His plan might have been to use her as bait to further increase his chances at escaping the pursuing snakes. I woke up in the hallway. Came to my senses rather quickly actually and decided to visit the toilet as Stranger had gone through all the trouble of bringing us out there. After that I went back to sleep.

Stranger – Chapter 3 – El Stockholmo

(This happened in 2016, on the 24th of August, for the record).

Last week I was staying at a hotel in Stockholm because of an assignment at work.
I’ve never had any incidents or adventures during a hotel stay before, and I do stay at hotels quite often when I’m working.

This time was different however. In the middle of the night, Stranger gets out of bed and walks around in the darkness. He notices something odd. I don’t see it, but then again I don’t get close to his legendary observation skills. He notices that in fact, the light in the bathroom, is switched off. Now obviously the only logical conclusion that he could come to here, is that there are burglars inside of the room! I would never have come to that conclusion. But then again, I don’t have the crime solving mind of Stranger. Realising the immense danger of the situation Stranger devised a plan to get rid of the burglars. He goes over to the other side of the room, and opens the window to allow the intruders to leave. He then sits down on the bed until he is sure the room is safe once more (shoo! shoo little burglars! Get out of here!).

Another night, another crisis averted. Well done Stranger!