Madness

There have been two incidents in the past week that have made me feel like I am going mental. I am aware that isn’t the most politically correct way of putting it, but it’s all I’ve got for the time being.

Scribbler
The majority of August was spent in Edinburgh with Dave for the Fringe (there will probably be a giant blog on this in about three months’ time) as he moved down there at the start of the month. Whilst waiting in the queue for a cash machine, I said aloud that I’d have to buy my sister a birthday card. “I guess I might get a nice one somewhere on Cockburn Street…” I mused.
“Why don’t we go to that place on Princes Street that we went to last year?” Dave suggested.
“Which place?”
“You know, that place you said you always go to and really like…” He saw my blank expression, “…on Princes Street..?”
“I have no idea where you’re talking about. What place?”
“I don’t remember what it’s called, but it’s got, like, green neon lights and stuff. We went there last year.”

I had no recollection of going into a place with green neon lights the previous year but neither of us would believe the other, so I told him to show me where it was or else I’d think I was going mad. As we walked along Princes Street, I was eager to reach where Dave believed this mythical shop lay. I imagined we’d get there and it wouldn’t exist, he’d look foolish, I could write him off as a mental and I’d be right and quietly smug.

When we passed Hanover Street and I was told, “I’m pretty sure it’s just round here…” I prepared myself for victory.

Until we came to this building.

“Here we go!” Dave said cheerfully.
I looked at it. It was certainly a card shop. It had green neon lights. I had never seen it before in my life and was shocked it existed.
“I have never been in here in my entire life.”
We went in. The walls were lined with greeting cards. It was nice, but nothing special. This threw up a number of questions. Why did I not remember this place? Why would I say I really liked it when it wasn’t much different from a number of other places? Who was I buying a card for the year before? When would we even have had time to go between the drunkenness and comedy? Was Dave thinking of someone else? Why did he know where this place was if he had never been with anyone before?

I was distracted from my card purchase and tried to ask all of these questions at once. It came out as, “I… cards… What?”
I think seeing my confused face worried the boy and we both felt like we might be going crazy. We only spent about four days in Edinburgh together last year, so I talked us through the first two, trying to figure out when we’d have a card-buying gap. He started to doubt himself. We have still not solved this mystery.

Drip Drip Drip
I was awoken from a dream about getting tickets to a Larry David book signing (he doesn’t have a book out, but it’s only a matter of time, right?) when I accidentally kicked Dave in the leg. How selfish of him to get in the way.
It was 3.27am.
I heard a strange noise. It sounded like water dripping and hitting a piece of plastic. I listened for a few minutes as it went on, then sat bolt upright, worried that it might be a leak.
“Are you okay?” Dave whispered.
“Yeah, just wondering what that noise is. Can you hear it?”
There was a moment of silence before it happened again and he told me he had heard it too. At least I wasn’t hearing things.
I lay down again, putting off having to get up and check it out. By 3.30am I had convinced myself that it was something more sinister than just a leak. It was definitely a ghost or a demon.

Oh, why have I not got round to round to reading Richard Wiseman’s ‘Paranormality’ yet? It would definitely reassure me that it’s not a ghost. Oh, come on, why am I even entertaining this idea? I am a logical person. I’m like Richard Feynman but without the smarts and the talent.

“Do you mind if I turn the light on?” I whispered.
“Okay.”
I did so and ran back to bed, like a frightened toddler.
“It sounds like it’s coming from by the door.” Dave told me.
“I hate you for making me watch Paranormal Activity that time.” I told Dave as I reluctantly got up to investigate the ceiling around the door. There seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary. I rushed back to the bed to report to Dave.
“There’s nothing there or anywhere else, it’s definitely a ghost.”
During this time, the noise had slowed down slightly and was a little more faint, as if it was coming from just outside the door. I took a while, but eventually flung it open and got ready to jump out of the way in case a spook came at me. Nothing.

Am I going mental?

After a few minutes, I apologised, turned off the light and lay with my eyes open in bed. The noise could be heard every few minutes now, even more faint than it had been before. Dave fell asleep quickly, but I couldn’t. Outside, where it had previously been quiet, a dog started barking frantically. Soon after, a group of women started laughing maniacally. It was quite disconcerting, especially after I convinced myself that the dog I could hear was actually right on the other side of the wall from me and was barking at the house. I could picture it perfectly, it would be barking whilst its two owners would be panicking, trying and failing to drag it away, “This is so unlike Steven, I wonder what has gotten into him!”

Drip.
It’s probably just house noise…  It’s not house noise. Why else would it pretty much stop after I switched on the light and went looking for whatever it is? Demon. For sure.
Drip.
Oh please, can it not be? We’ve got the landlord coming round tomorrow, what do I tell him?
Drip.
What if it’s not even a ghost playing with a bucket, and it’s the ceiling dripping blood on me, like in Tommy Wiseau’s ‘The House That Drips Blood On Alex’?
Drip.
I should maybe start writing all of this down in case the demon takes over my body and it makes me kill Dave and myself. People would ask questions. I have no intention of killing myself or Dave, it’d be really annoying if people started to think that.
Drip.
Am I going mental?
Am I going mental?

I think I might just have been really tired.

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Tags: insomnia, negativity, travel, wah wah feel sorry for me