(no subject)
I can't sleep. I cannot think straight. I urgently need to write.
I'm going insane.
Well, perhaps not insane, but I'm creating my own impending insanity through means of overanalyzation. I picture myself eventually winding up in a mad house via my own impulses, and all the philosophical drabble festering in my own mind.
But perhaps it is just brainwaste, and not philosophy. Perhaps its just the musings of a mad man. Woman?
..So, I wasn't dreaming, though I was trying my damnedest to do so, and I was thinking. You know, like, daydreaming, but not uncontrollable dreams. These thoughts were obviously not of the subconscious sort, yet somehow I feel that they must've.
I was "dreaming" about being in a teacher's room...Let's call this teacher... Mr. X. He is simply a variable, not a person, nor an entity. He exists not even for the sake of existing, but for an even lower purpose: to serve as a subject. He fills a space, and does his simple yet crucial job quite well. I find this quite ironic, considering who X is in true life..He certainly is not just a variable to hold a place within some sort of equation. But, I won't get in to that.
So I'm carrying on and on, incoherently to even my own self, until I finally start paying attention to what I'm saying to X..
"Do you ever get that odd sense of a human presence? Like, someone is not quite there, yet you feel as though they are? Of course, your visual senses may confirm to you that such a presence actually does exist, but to feel it for yourself is a whole different story."
{agreed point of view made by Mr. X}
"Or...when you are perfectly alone, yet you feel as though there IS someone there, or rather you simply sense a human presence, but your eyes tell you otherwise, of course. So, it is consciously confirms to you that no such presence actually exists at the moment, yet your..'spirit,' or what-have-you, is telling you the opposite? Eventually you start to actually hear the person..or people. Or whatever this may be.
"I'm always alone in my home on saturday mornings. My father is at work, my mother and sister, at the gym. It isn't so much a routine as it is a bad habit, like biting your nails or..frying your own brain.
"It is very quiet at this time, early in the day. There are no cars, nobody is outside, no noise. Even if any noise were to occur, you normally wouldn't be able to hear it with the windows closed. In fact, when you close all the windows in the house, except for one, and a lawnmower just-so-happens to drop by, you may hear it clearly. Yet, close that one window, and it is barely an audible hum.
"So, my house isn't too old, but it is old enough to make noise. People move around, it creates little squeaks and groans.
"But I'm supposedly 'alone' this time. Yet, I hear the wood of the house aching under the weight of..someone. I look around, upstairs, but there is no one. Or at least, no one that I can see.
"Suddenly, this presence somehow fades. Its bothering me, begging at me like a child with nothing to play with. Nagging. Stabbing, eventually. Then, I feel it again.
"The only obvious conclusion is that there really IS someone in the house, even though I logically know that there isn't. No one had some in..If so, I must've heard an entrance (is there another "E" in there? Because "entrance" is an entirely different word..) being made, right?
"But I ignore this fact, until it begins to tear at my innards. I look outside, expecting perhaps they are coming and going (again, of course, ignoring the fact that their entering and exiting should, in theory, be making some sort of noise).
"So what do I find? Two children are playing on my lawn. Running around, obviously having a good time. I would normally expect to hear them, just a tiny bit, but they don't seem to be very loud or obnoxious, so I pass it off.
"I walk about the house a bit, and eventually, the 'human presence feeling' fades again, abruptly. I look outside, they are gone..."
(Eventually I begin to drabble, even more so than usual, but basically I explained that every time I felt something, there was visual, but not audible confirmation from outside, and once this feeling fading, there was no longer anything there. I also explained that I didn't somehow expect this feeling to be "psychic," in any way at all, and then began to explain why..)
"I eventually got to the point where I would sit in front of the window, and close my eyes. Every time I felt it, I'd open them for a moment or two, and then close, even when I still felt it. Then, when I felt the abrupt fade, I would open again. I was honest with myself, which is a rare occurrence, really.
"Each time of course, I saw something, and thus, when this 'feeling' went away, I didn't. But, because I was fully aware of all of this consciously, perhaps I would subconsciously know that something was there, and so, I would open my eyes, in order to create that dishonest effect..you know. I can't explain it thoroughly enough. But nothing was audible. So my next conclusion would be, what if, eventually, I subconsciously felt a feeling of mystery - something unexplainable - and perhaps, my mind's only way of coping and preventing a compulsive burst on my part would be to create these images, in order to create an explanation for this odd and unusual feeling. My mind couldn't take the anxiety of thinking that it was feeling all these unnecessary fears and ominous presences, that it just HAD to create it's own explanation.
I went on and on about this theory, of course. Typical, of course. I went on and on about what another teacher had said in class, which coincides with this whole ordeal, but I'm starting to lose my buzz, so I'll explain that, and all of this, at another date.