2002-09-01 - 11:21 a.m.

Dear Diary,

Well, a new month begins. I guess I should feel a little better since at least the month of my titanic failure has passed. With every day that goes by, I become a little more resigned to the idea that Michelle is gone forever. I sure wish she had just told me that when I first asked her, because it would make things so much easier. Instead, I am living my life as hopefully as possible while trying not to hope for the thing I want the most. It feels very strange. But oh well, this is my life now. I know now that now won't last much longer, it will be replaced by a different now that I can obsess over.

Yesterday was a good day. I spent the morning cleaning my bedroom out and sorting some of the stuff that had been in there. There was a lot of old junk to throw out, some things I had completely forgotten about (like a very thoughtful birthday card sent to me by my grandparents, which is now almost completely destroyed) and some more things of Michelle's that she left behind. There is still quite a bit of junk in the living room, but I completely lost steam yesterday in light of how nice it was out and how dreary I was feeling from doing this last labour of cleaning.

While I was at it, I found my old diary, a thin notebook from grade school. I always forget this thing exists 99% of the time and the last entry in it was dated November 1993. I added an entry yesterday, simply because the last entry I had there made me cry so hard. It was exceptionally fitting that the diary left off talking about alcohol, which had at that point started to become a major influence on my life. Throughout the diary, I talk a bit about what's happening to me lately, usually the songs I listen to and the girls I like, but then I list a dozen or so cryptic references to things I don't want to forget. A few of these references are already lost to me, like "give PB to steve". I have no idea what PB is although it is probably some reference to a computer game meant for Sean's old work friend. Oh yeah :) there is also a reference to the current track I'm spending a lot of time playing in Racing Destruction Set. I think the title was "smush" and I'd love to play it again, although I have absolutely no memory of a single segment. I wanted to mention that because no more than 2 months ago I started playing RDS again on the Commodore 64 emulator I have. I even dragged Michelle into a game once, and she beat me :)

So my new entry was very much wiser than all the rest, of course. There was a certain twist to it, though. Although I knew when I wrote the other entries that I was so much wiser than the last time, this entry was the first where I realized how all this wisdom would disappear the next time I opened the diary. It was humbling and grounding to realize that I would read the words later and think "boy was I ever young" and "I wish I knew that everything I was worrying about wouldn't mean all that much now". I think it was that last one that made me cry the whole time I was writing it. In a way, by putting all my fears of losing Michelle into that diary, I was letting go of the fears by realizing that in 10 years when I read that entry again, the fears will be in the past and won't affect me any more. Funny that it doesn't actually matter whether we get back together or not, the same concept still applies.

phew

After all that, I was pretty emotionally drained. It was a beautiful late summer day, so I called Jamie up (by this time it's around 2pm which gives you an idea of how slowly I moved around the junk that half-filled a small bedroom, since I started at about 8:00). We headed out to play tennis and man was it not as much fun as I was hoping. I was so beat my arms and legs felt like lead. I don't know if it's because I didn't get enough sleep the night before (only managed to fall asleep by midnight at the earliest) or if it's because I eat so much less these days. I'm wondering, because I've been getting these mild headaches in the evening and I think it may be from low blood sugar or something. My diet has changed sooo drastically. No pot, no alcohol, no coffee, and about one third or even just a quarter of the food I used to eat. I'm also eating a lot of the same foods day after day, like ham sandwiches and yoghurt. I think I need to start eating a variety of dinners. Hmph.

Anyway tennis was ok, it was exercise and we got out which is what really mattered. After than I went home to shower and eat a snack, then biked to Jamie's to play some games. That was a lot of fun, and actually a lot more fun than I had expected. We played Warcraft III against the computer twice (lan game of course) and the first time we got smoked badly but the second time we rocked that sorry computer's arse :) After than we played Day of Defeat and it was a repeat for me: first I sucked badly, trailing the rest of the team, then I equalized, and by the third map I was top of the team. That's the usual pattern for me. Near the end, I was storming directly toward the enemy, taking them out 2 and 3 and even 4 at a time. They just weren't expecting someone to come directly at them, randomly dodging side to side, appearing in different places, kneeling and picking them off one by one. It was a blast.

In a way I feel like I could use DoD as a .. I want to write crutch but I don't feel that's the right word. What I mean is that I could definitely pass a lot of time doing it and fill my spare time with something that takes all my attention so I wouldn't think of more depressing things. This is definitely what I would have done in the past, I'm especially thinking of Toronto, where I played GTA2 and chatted online to avoid thinking of Pam. However, this time around I've very reluctant to waste my time playing computer games. Partly I think it's because I've wasted so much of my productive time the last few years stoned and keeping myself occupied with whatever was fun at the moment, and partly I think (actually just realizing) that putting off thinking about these depressing things wouldn't be of any use because the feelings would still be there later. Not only would they still be there, but they likely would have festered and become even harder to remove. No, I'm doing the right thing by playing games occasionally to entertain myself and have fun, but spending the rest of the time rightly writhing over my predicament. I say rightly because it is my responsibility to accept what I've done. I can't blame my alcoholism for my actions, it would be cowardly of me. I can say that I know what is wrong with me and I can fix it for the future, but I can't say I didn't do wrong in the past. That would be counter-productive and avoiding the issue.

So anyway, after I got home from Jamie's I ate some chips, finally finishing the bag that I bought over a week before (!), played my guitar for half an hour, read a book in the bath for half an hour, then read the same book in bed. It's kind of ironic because this book (Face to Face by Ellery Queen) was one that I picked up at a yard sale and wasn't terribly impressed with at first, but used to pass the time, and yet last night I spent 2 hours reading it in bed and had to make myself put it down because it suddenly got very interesting. Weird.

I think last night I set a record for fewest thoughts of Michelle before falling asleep. Let's hope it's a trend that will continue because I could use the rest.

Oh! I almost forgot about a dream detail. At some point in the night, I dreamed of being near Kris. For some odd reason I was rubbing her back, but regardless, it felt fantastic and I was telling her that I missed her and loved her. The feeling that she was there in front of me was very reassuring and healing. I can only imagine how much better it would feel to see her for real. Michelle was present in the dream, though only passively. She was sitting to my left, looking on. It is interesting that she was not the focus of the dream, and fitting, considering the feelings that the dream concentrated on. At least I don't feel that I failed as a dad. Just the opposite, in fact, I think I did a great job considering the circumstances and that Kris will miss me if she doesn't get the chance to have her dad back. What a mess I've made.

Lastly, I had two nightmares last night. And I don't use the term lightly. I can't remember the last time I had a real nightmare, but these were so bad that there were the kind you wonder if you're going to wake up from.

At 4:00am, I came to laying on my back and extremely peaceful. What brought me awake was immediately obvious, as there were sounds of a woman moaning echoing faintly through the empty room. There were coming from upstairs and of course they made me wake up rather more than I'd like to at that time in the night. As I sat there listening, memories of Michelle floated into my mind uncontrollably and of course that didn't help things in the least. I think the moans were actually from a porno, by the way, because they disappeared without any kind of conclusive build-up. I also later heard the upstairs guy puking in his toilet (this is much later, mind) but still, I think he was up late and didn't care how loud he had his computer. I'm so glad I ditched the porn habit. It's really a drag and has no noticeable benefit, since I'm clearly not missing it in the least. Just another item of trash that had been sitting in my porch way too long.

It took a while to fall back asleep, seeing as how I was so depressed from thinking of Michelle. I've been very strict with myself not to think of her in a sexual way (which is nearly impossible) because I'm convinced it would be the worst possible kind of thing to anticipate anything or have any subconscious expectation when I see her. That is going to be a whole other battle, but we'll see how it goes. I did eventually manage to fall asleep, although I wasn't sure I expected to, and this is what unfolded:

I am trekking through some woods. This is definitely a recurrence, but has a unique flavour. The best I can describe it is going through a new path in a familiar area. I was alongside a highway, and at some point needed to cross. The only way across was a clearly marked path up to the edge of the road, but it was an uncontrolled crossing meaning vehicles would be moving at highway speeds at that spot.

I crept up to the edge of the highway. This is a recurrent feature of my dreams, the dragging myself along the ground as if I can hardly move but I really need to get where I'm going. Anyhow, I literally scraped my body up between some rocks alongside the road and prepared to cross. I looked to my left and saw the road so clearly that I could draw a picture of it now. I was at the crest of a small hill in a sort of tunnel of rock, and the road fell away to my left, curving slightly to my left, and then with an abrupt turn to my right leading the road out of sight.

There was a car coming when I looked, but it was fairly far away, so I started out on the road. At that moment, I had the absolute strangest feeling that the car was almost upon me, and I had a strong primal urge to throw myself across the road as fast as I could before I got hit. Seemingly as I was being hit, I instead threw myself back and felt the car pass as close as a lover's whisper. I crouched, panting, on the side of the road, feeling for all the world as if my life had just about ended. I couldn't believe that I had almost thrown myself into the path of the car, but at the time it still felt like it would have been the right thing to do, as if it were my senses that were confused, and not my judgement. I felt as though I couldn't trust myself to stay alive.

My attention being back on the road, I watched another car appear at the edge of my vision, headed toward the sharp turn I described earlier. My thoughts were that I would wait for it to pass and then cross as quickly as possible. Imagine my horror as the car careened wildly off the road, straight into a cliff! I couldn't believe my eyes, the accident seemed real, with a loud crash, and I was sure the occupants were dead. At that moment two transport trucks appeared, one immediately following the other. I watched nervously as they came around the sharp corner and everything seemed fine till one nudged the other and they both tilted onto their sides and came crashing toward me. I mentioned a rock tunnel before, well these trucks in my dream scraped along on their sides, their momentum barely exhausting itself as they were about the fall on me from above and crush me. They were perched above me on the roof of the rock tunnel, smouldering and wrecked.

I panicked. Tons of truck were hovering practically over my head and ready to fall on me at any minute. For the next minute or so I scraped the ground and spent all the effort of my will moving away from the place I was sure I was going to die in, except that I didn't move an inch. There was a hill in front of me that I could practically roll down but my movements were so excited and panic-stricken that they had no coordination whatsoever and my attempts at moving away from impending death were as usefull as those of an insect pinned to a mat.

I realized all this and calmed down. If I was going to die, it would have happened already. I looked up at the closest truck, teetering just over my head, and shuddered, thinking it could still fall on me, and could have fallen on me the whole time while I thrashed on the ground in panic. I shakily got to my feet, after about the third try, and walked away.

I walked into a meadow of short sparse grass, with sun streaming down. It had the feeling of dry summer, in a small almost deserted town. Rusty bits of old vehicles were strewn around; I was close to a mechanic's. I walked toward the building, which happened also to be toward where the car had crashed into the cliff. I had to get help for these people, I thought.

I realized there were already people there at the cliff wreck site, so I made my way to it. What I found was the most amazing site... a single woman had been in the car and she had survived! I don't know if it was my relief that made the moment comical, but again I could draw a picture... imagine a 350 pound woman driving a mini, with the whole front of the vehicle pushed in until she was pressed into the vehicle firmly, unable to move and the windshield peeled away. It looked like the woman was sitting in a ruined metal chair that just barely fit her bulk, but was quite unhurt. Probably the strangest thing I've imagined since the first dream entry I recorded on this computer a few weeks ago.

From there, I wandered on my path, but I can't remember where I was going or when the thread of the dream dropped. I was in a building at some point, maybe trying to find my way, but none of the rest stand out in my mind in the least.

The next thought I had was that I was awake. I was laying on my stomach, leaning to my left a bit and right away I had the feeling that I knew I wasn't actually awake yet. I can't sleep on my left side because I cracked a rib there or hurt myself somehow when I was about 11, so I decided to move, but of course I couldn't. I had no conscious control of my body. I've had this happen to me so many times that I knew what to do from experience, I stopped trying to push harder and harder with my muscles and instead concentrated on breathing faster. I drew in ragged breath after ragged breath until I sensed my mind coming alive in that particular way, and I was able to haul myself up in bed and turn over to my other side. Phew. Sleep came again quickly. Although I remember now the feeling I had that I was relegating myself to a frightening nightmare. I knew it was coming.

This is where it gets scary.

I'm laying in the dark. It feels like I'm in the trailer I grew up in in Elliot Lake. Those weren't good times, and night lays close to me. I'm on my back, laying straight. Quite calm.

A presence approaches / appears / is there, I can't explain because it is very strange how it came to be. It seems like a woman. I think it's Michelle? no.. a girl? a woman? It's talking to me.. it says some soothing things.. I'm feeling more and more like it's company, like I want it there. It feels.. reassuring is the word. Like a lover. Yes, that's it, it's a lover. But it's like the shade of a lover, a black ghost that fills in the space next to me like liquid cloud. It has depth, that much I sense, it appears to be a match for me, the same length, in the same orientation, but facing me. It is talking to me.

As I said, it is reassuring me, it is talking in a voice that is opening my ears and putting longing in my heart. I think it's accurate that I can't remember the words, because in that sudden way that dreams have, something happens that I have never experienced before, and I know it is happening and what it is as it happens.

The shape begins to change; simultaneously the voice... gives up its charade is the best way I can describe, and descends from a loving woman's coon to a low demonic warble. The facial area of the thing is my focus at the moment this occurs, and I am shrinking away mentally (though 'physically' unmoving) from it even as it draws me to it and speaks to me. It also smoothly moves from my right to immediately above me. Some details are lost as I very concerned with telling it NO. I know what is going to happen, it's crazy, the thing is coming closer, although there is no space between us. It is pressing against my entire front side in a coldly wet way, and in horror I sense, and do not underestimate what I say, I SENSE with actual feeling, the thing inside me. It invades me not of a sudden, but like a drop of water joining a greater body, with a plopping absorption, meaning not only resistanceless entry but also an absolute perfection of fit.

And I am possessed. I exist still in my body, but only along the rim, pressed out by this thing and consumed by it, a bystander in my own mind.

As I knew I was going to be unable to stop its entry before it happened, my mind fixed on the only remedy I knew. I feel strange writing it, being an absolute unbeliever in any kind of religion, but the thought I fixed on was to speak, with all the conviction of a dead man walking who knows it can save his life: "in the name of Jesus Christ, I put you out." As the memory is recalled to me, I formulate the action I will perform. I will sit up in bed calmly, put my arm out in front of me, palm flat, fingertips up, and say, KNOWING that it will work, "in the name of Jesus Christ, I put you out." There is a certain gathering in me, conscious, as though I know it has to be done as part of the proclamation, and I begin to speak. "In the name of...", my own voice, is spoken with the low warble of the demon. It has possessed me so completely that I am it, and I speak only by making it speak. It is incomprehensibly frightening. But, as the words "Jesus Christ" continue their path through my will, they come out completely clean, and "I put you out" may actually have been spoken aloud, I can't remember.

I lay in bed, heart pounding. I've never in my 26 years considered anything so frightening as what has just happened. And most frightening is that I really don't believe in it. My very recent acceptance of my alcoholism has taught me exactly how dangerous it is not to believe things. But I don't. Still, and that frightens me as well.

My first thought is, "Well, if you don't believe it, let yourself fall back asleep". But I don't. I lay awake thinking for a while.

The one thought that comforts me is that I'd also just recently thought I was going to get hit by a car in my dream, and the highway I had to cross wasn't real, so then the demon I dreamed wasn't real either. I don't know, it wasn't all that comforting.

There's only been a few times in my life when things like this happen, things I can't explain. I really felt that a presence came after last night. And it's something I doubt I would have remembered if I hadn't written it down in this diary. Yikes. I'm reminded of a diary entry I read yesterday from around the time I had pictured in the dream, the time I lived in the trailer. I'll go dig it out to make sure I get it verbatim. It was an entry I wrote after staring at myself in the mirror and trembling in hatred at my own reflection after having whipped the family dog with a towel while it was tied up:

Here is it in front of me, written in a child's scrawl:

"Dear God: What is happening to me? Do I have the devil inside of me? Please! How do I stop this? How?"

Funny, there is a marking between the question mark after "inside of me?" and "Please!" At first I thought it was a second question mark, or at least the beginnings of one because there is no dot, but now it looks more like a deliberate lower-case z rotated so the middle bar is almost horizontal. Weird.

Anyway, that's the entry, and that's this entry. I've had enough. I have to go to the office and do some catch-up work today.

Phew.

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