Paralyzed
::General::

Someone is in my apartment. I can't see him but I can feel him. He is dressed in all black, the clothes are tight fitting and he is surrounded with menace. On my bed in broad daylight, late morning, I stare at my walls and don't move. The shadows do not shift but I know he is there. I know that he comes. He makes no sound but I can see the footfalls, see the silent steps of his boots. He is in our home and he will harm us, this man. This intruder. He carries a knife.

I scream but I can't - I can't open my mouth, I can't find my voice. I can't move. My mind is frantic, clawing, clawing, clawing at my body to make it respond. DO SOMETHING, it yells in frenzied self-preservation. DO ANYTHING! Not a muscle twitches. Not a finger, not a single toe or whisper. I wait. My heart pummels, running free without me and I struggle inside with myself while I stare at the alcove of my door, waiting, waiting, waiting for any moment to arrive, to get a glimpse of the blade that will kill me.

Why can't I move?

My husband. I choke as I consider him. He is either in the bed or, or... My mind runs crazy with the thoughts that he has fought with this person already, that he has lost, that he is lying and bleeding; he needs me. I pray, pray, pray that he is beside me. Wake up, my quiet mind urges him. Wake-up Wake-up Wake-up.

Nothing. He is either blissfully unaware or is dead. Tears soak my face and my pillow; I can't move from the wetness, it will suffocate me. I hope, I pray that it does. I don't want to be stabbed here in my own bed, I don't want...

A moan, I think. It is mine, I can speak! I put everything I have behind the scream but my throat won't work right, my lips won't part. All I hear is a whimper. So I whimper again. My vision has blurred so much I can't see; I cannot blink to clear it. Fear swallows me. Why can't I move? Somebody Help Me! Help us.

Baby, wake up!

Help us, help us, help help help...

And then I can move. A finger.

Move it again!

I do. I wiggle it, then another. I am reaching for the night stand, the phone. Every inch I gain is like fighting upstream. It's too slow; he will get me.

Faster, faster! Move! Move! Move!

I can't, I can't! I am kicking, trying to make legs work, but they barely tousle the covers. My chest is stuck to the bed, my arms won't help me to rise. All I can do is creep my fingers toward the edge of the bed so I do, stretching, stretching...

He's coming. He's coming.

My eyes stare at the door. My husband comes through it - Oh! Thank God! - and he comes to the bed, he is worried. "What is it? What's wrong?"

I can't answer because I'm still catatonic so I murmur, I whimper, I mumble and his eyes go wider. I can see him afraid now. He sweeps back the covers and touches me. It helps. I clutch at his shirt and I pull; movement comes back to me but I am three separate entities - a voice, a body, a mind. All are trembling and huddling in his arms. "Where is he? Did you catch him? Is he gone, are you alright?"

"Who? Who?" He holds me but he looks at the window. He stops my hand as is gropes for the phone. Books fall. "I've been up since eight. I did laundry," he says. "There is nobody here. You were having a nightmare."

But? I look around, confused. Nothing has changed. The lighting is the same, the gap in the closet door is the same. My eyes had been open. The same red sweater is in the same spot in the basket. Did I dream with my eyes open? When I look at him I can see he is almost as rattled as me.

"There is nobody here," he comforts me. "A dream...nobody here..."

Just a dream.


***

SLEEP PARALYSIS

For those of you that don't know, your brain turns off certain functions while you sleep, one of these being movement during the REM stage, so you don't harm yourself in acting out your dreams. This paralysis does not extend to your eyes.

AWARENESS DURING SLEEP PARALYSIS

Is, of course, "waking up" while this effect is still taking place, though you are still not technically awake. In many cases you are still lucidly dreaming, that is dreaming while you are aware you are dreaming, and you are hallucinating. Common hallucinations include:

Most Common:
vividness*
fear* (!!!)

Common:
Sensing a "presence" -often malevolent*
Pressure/weight on body - especially the chest* (occasionally)
Impending sense of doom/death*

Fairly Common:
Auditory hallucinations - often footsteps or indistinct voices, or pulsing noises
Visual hallucinations such as people or shadows walking around the room*

Less Common:
Floating sensation - sometimes associated with out-of-body experiences* (occasionally)
Tactile hallucinations - such as a hand touching or grabbing

Rare:
Falling sensation* (is this the 'falling into bed' sensation?)
Vibration (Heh, that could be nice)

***

It took some time. My eyes would close then they would flutter open wildly. I could feel myself falling and my heart would stop, then beat frantically. Don't fall asleep, it would say. It conspired with fright to keep me awake. So I'd try again. Inhale, I would instruct. Exhale.

Slowly, ever so slowly, my heart returned to normal. Slowly, the visions left me alone, those obscurities conjured by horror-movie templates, drawn on by an overactive imagination given much fuel. I found myself sleeping. A little at first, three or four hours here and there, and then I could sleep the whole night. My own awful thoughts did not wake me and then it happened again.

The fear. The intruder. The fear.

Wake up Mysti, wake up. You've done this before, it will go away. It will go away just wake up. Wake-up wake-up wake-up

He is over my bed.

He isn't real, he isn't real...

He's watching me. He's going to do something! Something vile, something mean. Help me!

He isn't real! Wake up! Wake-up wake-up wake-up...

You would think this would get easier, after having the knowledge.

wake-up wake-up wake-up...

It doesn't.

wake-up wake-up wake-up...

86
::Bar speak::

So I had to 86 someone. I don't normally do this, not for stupid reasons like these were, and I hate it when people compel me to be a bitch for idiotic reasons. If you are going to insist on making me an angry woman, and I do not like being angry (It is very against my nature to be angry; I am a very happy person), then by all means it had better be a doozy to make it worth it for me. Do not putty my time with irritating trifles.

So here is the incident that resulted in this particular 86.

***

I am standing at the pool table awaiting my opponent's rack before I break. J*(name withheld for reasons of not wanting to reproduce it on my blog) grabs a wet towel from the bar and saunters over to the pool table.

J: "I'm just gonna clean the pool table."

(the balls have finished becoming racked.)

Me: "Wait a bit, J"

J: "No. This'll only take a second." He proceeds to wipe the bumpers. I should note here that we have no brush because it was stolen a couple weeks ago.

Me: "J. You’re next on the list. Just wait 'till your turn."

J: "No, no." Shakes head, wipes table.

After a few words with the boss, because asking someone to leave who has not committed your standard 86 crime without backup would just be brainless, J then proceeds to enjoy the last of his evenings here at the bar.

***

Now, this may seem a trivial matter for which to be 86'd but if this certain customer's infractions were, say, a banana split, then it would be proper to say that he had just sprinkled the sundae with nuts. Let's consider his other infractions.

Vanilla: He never spends money. Not a drink, soda or otherwise, and he never adds a dollar to the pool when someone starts a jukebox collection. He spends less than $1.50 on pool.

Strawberry: He "hovers" over the pool table when others are shooting and barks unsolicited, often unwanted advice.

Chocolate: He seems to think that he can place his name anywhere on the board where there are enough open centimeters between names for which his own name can be squeezed.

Fudge: He also seems to think that he can rearrange these names anyway he sees fit.

Pineapple: Leaving the premises for half an hour or more, without letting others know you will return, does *not* forfeit a turn for himself but for everyone else, it does.

Caramel: His opponent, along with three or four other pool-game-watching clientele, declaring the last shot was unclean, apparently translates to "Nice shot! Keep shooting."

Banana: Disrespecting the workers and basically every human within eyesight is okay. Notice I put this as the most important part of the sundae.

Whip Cream: If I had a complaint or suggestion box by the door, a large portion of the contents would contain J's name.

Cherries: He wears the exact same change of clothes every day. This is only slight exaggeration. I know I am grasping at straws here but this is a banana split sundae. There's alot of layers here. I could say he lies when faced with a point-blank conversation. I could say I know of two paying customers that pack up their sticks and go the very moment he comes in (they will also leave once the loud music starts so no real loss here). I can argue that he refuses to call my sister and I by our natural names no matter how many times he's reminded, but that is just a further example of disrespect, which I've already listed. So let's just say the sundae is finished all you need is a spoon. Anybody hungry?

Anyway, so he is gone. I am not sure what took me so long to get him gone, except that I honestly still find it hard to believe that some people will blatantly refuse to conform to even the simplest rules or requests when they are given the honest opportunity to do so. Maybe conform isn't the right word here. I have sat this individual down, I have told him point-blank "These are the complaints I receive, this is what you need to do to remain here..." and then the same problems arise. I don't get it. Is there such a thing as compulsive egotism? There must be.

I had a room mate once who I learned was a compulsive kleptomaniac. One day, after having organized my cash into separate piles of bills and placing them all in their proper envelopes and putting them away, I had to answer the phone. There was one twenty left on the bed. I go to the kitchen, converse for two or three minutes (I am a huge fan of quick phone calls), come back and low and behold... no twenty.

I go to my roomate. "Did you pick up that twenty that was on my bed?"

Roomate: "No. Why? Did you lose one?"

Me: "No. I didn't lose it. It was on my bed when I answered the phone."

Roomate: (deadpan, I kid you not) "I saw Storm playing with something on your bed. She must have rolled it under the bed or something."

Storm is my cat. So she is saying that my cat rolled up the bill with her paws and batted it beneath my dustcover. She is also suggesting my cat became interested enough in a flat piece of paper to be compelled to do this. Okay, then.

This current situation with J reminds me of that. I don't how to deal with these people. I don't. You can't argue with them because in their mind, they are honestly right. You can't reason with them because their definition of reason is one of a kind. Is there not some deserted island we can put them all on. Or Texas? I hear Texas is vastly under populated for its size. Surely there is a big enough space out there to contain them all. But then I suppose you are getting back into segregation, which opens the door to dictatorship, and then we will have a civil war over silly people and that just doesn't seem worth it so I suppose I will just have to suffer them.

And now that my insignificant rambling is over, let us hold hands and pray that I have not forever ruined banana split sundaes with my analogy. Next time I will use something more fitting, like fruitcake and liver.

Woven
::Poetry::

Lingering, happy-in-love blurb.

Miracle elapsed
touched on our heads
incandescently passed
through etheral vision
into our hands
we are gifted
infinitely fitted
to a dance so intricate.



1. My mom moved back from Ohio this week. I am very happy about that.
2. I have been offered the title of 'head bartender', which I am not happy about but I am less happy about the alternative - having this title go to somebody else.

Secrets of Onomatopoeia!
::General::

Have you ever read L.E. Modesitt? No? Then don't let this deter you.

All these discreet sound effects are found italicized in The Magic Engineer by L.E. Modesitt (Tor 1994; page numbers from 1995 Orbit UK paperback edition, which may be identical). For best effects, read it aloud in sonorous tones, having first shackled your audience to their chairs.

4 ... clung ...

55 ... clickedy ... click ...

61 Flappppp ... thwipp ...

67 thunkkkk ... hhhnnnnn ...

68 ... hhhnnnn ... hhhhnnnn ... thump ... slurrppp ... thump ... thump ...

70 ... hhhhnnnnn ... thump ... thump ...

72 Thweeeeett ...

74 Wheeee ... eee ...

75 Whheeeee ...

77 Whheeee ... eeeee ...

78 Snick ... Whhsttttt ...

81 ... tu ... whuuuu ...

82 ... tu ... whuuuu ...

87 Whuuu ... uffffff ...

92 Thhuummpp ...

93 Whhhheeeeee ... rrrmmmmm ... rrrrmmmmm ... thrummmbblle ...

94 wehhhhheeeee ... cracccckkkkkk ... crackkkkk ...

99 Creeeeaaakkk ...

100 Creaaakkk.

104 Squeakkk ... Whhhsttt.

105 Squeaakkk ...

110 Click ... clickedy ... click ...

119 ooooo

120 oooo

126 Whhnnnnn ... nnnun ...

[A strange gap here: note the page numbers. Did our sensitive-eared author's mood change, or did a different copy-editor take over for a bit?]

222 burrruppp

261 Clunk!

274 Thrap ... thrap ...

278 Creakkkkk ...

295 Whuuuffff ...

314 crummp

359 Crummmppp ...

371 Whufffff ...

374 Whhnnnnn ...

375 Crummmpppp ...

376 Whuffff ...

383 Thrap ...

387 Clunnngggg ... clunnggg ...

412 Crack! Crack! Crack!

435 Creakkkk ...

480 thunk

492 ... clung ...

493 Clung ...

505 Wheeee ...

506 Whheeeee ... Whhheeeee ...

512 Keee ... aaa ... keee ... aaaa ... Keee ... aaaa ... keee ... aaaa ...

524 Crumpppp!!

527 Wheeennn ...

549 Thwannnnngggg ...

557 Wheee ... eeeee ...

566 Fwwuuuphhh ... fwuppp ... Fwwwuuuppphhh ... fwupp ... fwuppp ... Clunk ...

567 Creaakkkkk ... creeakkkk ... WHHHHHEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeee ...

570 terwhit

574 CRRRRRuuummmmmpppp!!!! CRRRRRuuummmmmpppp!!!! CRRRRRuuummmmmpppp!!!!

582 CRUUUMPPPPPP!!!!

588 Whheeee ...

585 terwhit

601 Terwhit ... terwhit.

611 Scccffff ...

624 Click ... click ... WHHHsssttt! Crack ... thump ... whummmmmmPPPPTTTTTTT ... EEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIiiii!

625 Thurrrrummmmmmmmmm ... thuruummmmm ...

628 fwwuuuphhh ... fwuppp ... Fwwwuuuppphhh ... fwuupp ... fwuppp ...

639 PHsssttttt ... PHHHssttttt ... Phhhssst ... platttt!!! Shhhh ... plattt ...

671 CRRRuuummmppp!

685 Gee--ahhh ...

741 Whhhsttttt ...

[TTHHHHEEEeeeeee ENNNNnnndd!!!]

Modesitt is one of my favorite authors so I found this insanely funny. I apologize to those that fail to see the humor. The man to whom we owe the credit for this is David Langford, who performed the "research" to create the above text.

Sixth
::General::

So I miss you guys. So life happened, then work, then a vacation of sorts, and then I was wondering about this whole bartending thing and daydreaming about managing a nice quiet bookstore somewhere.

And I thought of this place.

I wrote posts I never posted, then deleted them. One thing about blogging - It is not my opinion that it is fair to go about in your own little blog world without spending time in other little blog worlds.

I seem to have lost that time. In fact, I seem to have lost a lot of things. The main one being I feel I have lost my place in life. Don't panic, Mysti, this happens to everyone. And in the middle of all this 'what am I doing here, how do I get away from here, what have I done' thoughts, my husband:



Six years.

I may wonder about my career, my home, my faith in myself, but I will never wonder about this man. Or this love. Or the absolute perfection that souls united brings to the end of the day.

Six years - and it still feels like yesterday.

I thank God, thank the world, my life for this man. And in the lyrics of Vienna Teng:

"I am a constant satellite of your blazing sun, I obey your law of gravity
...This is the fate you've carved on me..."

...

Vienna Teng, Gravity listen download