Nightly he leaves a piece of paper and a pen upon the headboard of his bed, along with a small tape recorder, so that he can jot-down or record in gibberish, thoughts and dreams that come to him during the night while he tries to sleep. Dream scenarios before they disappear into the vault of subconscious. Often his brain does not lend to sleep soundly, what with the ever-present vault entrapment around money worries of the times.

When he awakens, hardly am able to read those scribbled etchings from the dark, reaching for his water jug to quench his throat and flush his mouth of post-nasal mucus. Ideas forgotten in the morning’s haze, or whenever neglected to have written them down; scary past and unfutured monstrous episodes, often with people unknown, or with friends know do not know each-other nor the antagonists!

Like the time that he felt something trying to surround and envelope him just as he was falling asleep in the favorite coffin-like, darkened bedroom. Sitting up in a sudden start and swiping away whatever presence that was!

He struggled to open his eyes with his fingers and turn over from his right side under the covers, to the left – and then “it” was gone! As he lay there, still and scanning the darkness in the aftermath, pondering what just happened and what “it” was that he really felt grabbing him in a strong, snake-like constricting attempt. After briefly turning on the headboard light, He saw a mouse along the base of the wall head towards his kitchen and threw off the bedclothes to give chase – to no avail. “Buy traps in the morning”, he jotted down on the bedside “to-do” pad. Finally he drifted to sleep for the night, thinking that maybe it was death itself – the Grim Reaper – that just tried to take him.

During ensuing days, he contemplated “the presence”, but had not felt its return to try and capture him again – yet. Recently he had been, at the owner’s request months ago, trying to shop this house he’d rented for a dozen years, and researched that it was built in 1950. Therefore, there could be any number of “spirits” trying to return to their original haunts from time-to-time. Then an acquaintance who’d snagged his drawers by talking racist shit on Christmas Eve 2011 and who he had not heard from since, showed on his doorstep – without calling first which is his #1 visiting RULE – like the Reaper’s bad penny and furthered future anti-somnolent waking discomfort and itching fear.

He named it The Girdler’s spirit of his father wanting to handcuff and demonize him while preparing the masonry to encase him in the wall for violating his space while a favorite of all his seven offspring with his wife. He kept bones of unknown souls in there.

That is how it began…

Sleep is a premium at any day or night these days as we toil to solve our monetary shortcomings. He tells his brain, “Quiet Your Mind!“, listen to a guided meditation or his old talk radio show audition, and most times, off drifts to another dreamscape of horror or past lovers before listening to all of it.

**Pickhit: What about your dreams? Do you find that your subconscious had taken over after you’d laid down to sleep upon waking UP?