Haha, I sound so old....Barry Manilow? Where the fuck did that come from?!
I stared up at the ceiling hoping the clarity would not leave but the woman’s bedroom was horribly cluttered with outrageous faces that beckoned for my gaze. The ominous gazes, the smiles, and the occasional winks zeroed in on my attention momentarily. I realized that this small bedroom was filled with cheap posters from the popular bands who’s names came to me in an instant. The Bee Gees, Barry Manilow and even a tiny printing of Fleetwood Mac starred at me with meaningful eyes each holding a secret in their glares for my knowing only. Names and faces that had held no meaning to me when I first greeted them in this room. But I knew them well now, and they brought me up to date with the present year, 1976. In a temporary state of heightened euphoria induced by the ecstasy I felt in remembering who I was, eerily I could slowly hear them whisper my name, "Trevor". And I did the same, said it aloud for all to hear. I let the syllables undulate off my blood stained tongue and in the most non arrogant way, it was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.