Can't believe this.
I'm actually on the verge of freakin out a little bit.
(the fact that I'm downplaying it with terms like "on the verge" and "a little bit" points to the fact that neither of these things are true.)

I love this place. It's almost the oldest building I've ever lived in and it's somehow been able to make it through the last 95 years without being renovated, demolished or had it's beautiful wood panels painted over thick by the hepsters, the beatniks, the hippies, the pastel new wavers and the dark forest green quiet types that like to cut themselves.  I love how it's kept it's character, and I toy sometimes with old stories that I say happened here.
Here where I sit
or over there by the sofa
or back in the bedroom.

Maybe a newlywed couple were in my kitchen talking about the Great War breaking out while they waited for the water to boil for tea, not knowing about the great depression that was coming this way in another ten years.

An elderly man cranking his victorola again, pouring a glass of scotch and sitting down to light his pipe over there in the corner by the window.

Small children sitting close to the big radio, wide eyed and quiet as they listen to this week's Little Orphan Annie radio play.

It's got "character" I guess they'd say.
I imagine all the sounds of lives that have played out in these walls.
It's got history, and I let myself think about tragedy here too.


I think about it, but I never go anywhere with it. 

I don't dwell on the possibilities or make shit up. 

I just go "hmm, I guess there's a possibility some bad stuff happened within these walls too." and leave it at that.

I don't not believe in ghosts, but I also don't put a whole lot of thought into when or if I'm gonna see one because I honestly don't believe we ever actually SEE them. 
Perhaps when we are by happenstance in a vibe close enough to the same level of energy or vibe that another dimension is on, and that something is near –
some part of our brain may pick up on that –
and then I suppose it would be natural for our brain to try to make sense of it by manufacturing an image, but I totally don't go for the idea of our retina actually seeing a ghost. 
We’re probably surrounded by all sorts of stuff everyday,
all day.

Maybe only for a very rare split second (like dejavu) are we akin long enough to pick up on something.
Then in the same split second, it's gone,
leaving you doubting you felt anything in the first place.

What the hell am I going on about?

I guess this probably all started a couple of days ago when I was taking random shots in here with my new camera.  (But I am only guessing that now in hindsite as I try to figure out what the fuck is going on.)
Maybe it was also something to do with the other night, when I was sitting here at the computer and the lights suddenly turned on. (light switch is behind me on the wall by the hallway)..
Did that plant some sort of little seed that totally wasn’t apparent to me at the time?  Is some part of my brain taking a couple of strange little instances and putting them together and manufacturing a freakout?  Or am I legitimately picking up on something here that is just not fucking kosher?

I’m going on record saying I am making this all up in my head and being ‘silly’.
Yeah, that’s it.  I’m just being silly.

I like baths.
Yes baths.  Bubbly Ombra lavender Epsom salt just lay there and soak manly man baths.  Been taking them for like 20 years or something.
Well, it’d been a while since I’ve done that, so tonight I drew one.  It was way too hot at first so I let it cool off and fill the bathroom with steam while I dug around for a book that I’ve not read yet, or at least a book I’ve only read once, and made a mental note to go book shopping sometime soon.

At around 8:30 I finally tiptoed in and slowly sunk down into the still too hot tub, dryed my hands off and picked up ‘The England of Literature – a social history” from the edge of the sink.

Not into it right now.  I try force-reading the first few pages but finally put it back on the edge of the sink and close my eyes.

The thing I like to do in the bath is that whole submerge thing.  Just slide right down until my ears are underwater.  Close my eyes and I can only hear my breathing and my heartbeat, floating. (Sometimes I fall asleep doing this, and I’ll probably wake up drowned one day, but only if I ever find a tub long enough that I don’t have to put my feet up by the shower head in order to get my head underwater.)
Anyways, I slide down, submerging my head and am anticipating that whole relaxation thing that comes from this.

I don’t experience that whole relaxation thing though.  Instead what I get is some sort of a picture in my head as though it’s from another persons perspective.  It’s so fast in my head but I clearly pick it up: 
It’s my living room.  But only at the very beginning.  It’s my living room, but then it’s at the end of the hallway that leads to the bathroom and it’s fucking running FAST towards the bathroom door.  I’m seeing my apartment in a flash from the perspective of somebody about 4 feet high running at full speed towards my bathroom door.

I sit bolt straight up in the tub and flood a wave over the edge onto the bathroom floor.  Wiping at my eyes quick I’m staring at the door.
It’s open just a crack and it’s dark out there.
I absolutely get the feeling I’m being watched through that crack.

Ok, I’m still a little bit on the verge of freakin out as I type this, but not quite so much as the little bit of verging I was doing in the tub as I was staring through that crack in the door.

It actually took me a minute to hit the rewind button there to really grasp what the fuck just happened.  Was that a ‘thought-thought’?  A fantasy land sort of day dream?  Did I actually just fall asleep for a second there? I can only come up with no, no and no.
As a matter of fact, what I come up with is the distinct impression that in the will behind the lens of what I just saw was a definite sensation of ‘waiting’.
Waiting for me to put my head under water.

The bath is fucking over.

I’m standing, wiping the steam off the mirror now lookin at myself and not saying anything out loud but giving myself a little talking to.
”Dude, you’re 39.  a bit old for playing ghosties aren’t you?”

When I finally open the bathroom door wide (and ridiculously fast, like it’s a bandaid stuck and this is the way you do it) and calmly step out into the hallway, I of course don’t see any little demon child, and I just walk into the dining room.
Which is when it happens again.

Totally FEEL something here, (still do as I type this, but this is keeping me busy type type type type look at me I’m typing) and my goosebump muscles are getting a good workout.  I'm reeeeaaaally looking forward to going to bed.

And that pretty much brings me to right now.  This moment.  Trying to figure out what the hell THAT was all about.  I’ve been living here for 14 months now, and haven’t experienced that in my apartment. 
(The stairwell to the basement? sure.  But not inside my apartment.)
Wah.

oh yeah, that pic I mentioned.

One of my favorite views is when I first wake up in the morning and I can see through out my bedroom into the dining room part of the apartment.  I downloaded the pics onto my computer, and was a bit flabberghasted at this one. 
At first I tried to explain it away as some sort of light effect, but there’s no lights.  Just this ball.

I’m not letting myself notice the similarity to the height of the perspective that my little uninvited tub movie was shot from.

There is nobody
Standing in my doorway
staring at me sleep.