May 15th

My journey took me through most of the day. It’s 11 P.M. and I’m beyond tired. I don’t even know why I’m writing this, as groggy as I am. Don’t want to break the streak of this habit, I guess. Even with something as impartial as a mental IOU note. I would probably skip this entirely, if not for how shaken I am.

I saw something when I was out. Something that I’m convinced is beyond rational powers of explanation. I feel radicalized and betrayed, like the powers of reasoning I’ve slammed so thoroughly into my head have stabbed me in the back. The signs have been here for weeks, but I’ve written them off as my own psyche taking advantage of me. Perl’s words feel hollow, now. Freud was right all along. The wicked man does what the dreaming man does in his waking life. That’s what it is: A wicked man. But one that doesn’t constrict itself to the waking world. I feel a distant fear, and a more immediate disquiet. Something is happening here and I don’t like it one bit.

I don’t trust myself to speak clearly this late. Tomorrow I’ll write about what I felt, or saw. I think sleep will make things feel more real. From then on, I’ll try to make sense of it. When I have, I can’t even imagine what I’ll do. Perl will think I’m crazy, in all likelihood, but he feels like the only ally I could ever hope to have in all of this. I’m not religious, but there’s no harm in prayer. I’m praying for a dreamless sleep.

I keep saying tomorrow, like a talisman. Tomorrow, if I wake up, I’ll be safe. Just let me last one night and I’ll be safe.