Bit of oddness from last night. Drifting off to sleep but suddenly this thought came into my head in the form of a picture and I couldn't make the picture go away so I started writing about it. Wrote a little bit, tried to go back to sleep but thought some more about it and had to write some more.
No idea where this is going. Maybe it's going nowhere. It's interesting just as it is but I might want to expand it.
The problem is I have no idea where to expand it it's just an idle fought from drifting off to sleep.
Anyway you look at it, I like it.
The Man on the Corner
There was a man sitting on the corner of the empty street. The kind of man you'd glance at and ignore, except there was no one else in sight and that made him odd. Short hair, bit messy, stylishly dirty brown. Mostly shaven and just a little bit not. Either well tan or Hispanic. Wearing dark blue sweats. The kind of sweats you looked at and thought not I wonder what brand those are but instead I wonder if he's just so rich he doesn't give a damn or so poor he can't afford anything better?
The odd man on the corner just sat there, leaning against a lamp post. One leg stretched out one up at an angle. His hands just laying across his thighs, dangling. He was staring across the street. But there wasn't anything there to see. Just an old storefront. Empty now. Waiting for October when it could transform into a Halloween store. But right now it was nothing; just an empty store.
Trevor wouldn't normally have given the man more than a momentary glance without a single thought but he would either have to walk between the man and the store, putting himself in line with that empty stare or he would have to walk the narrow space on the sidewalk right behind that post. Close enough to be reached if the man turned out to be aggressive. It shouldn't bother me thought Trevor. I'm bigger, heavier, damn all in better shape. So why does he concern me. What is it about him that it makes me uneasy?
Deciding the whole thing was stupid, Trevor walked on but just as he reached behind the man without breaking his stare the oddball began to speak. He had a deep voice. A rich voice. Sounded like a professional voice actor narrating a deeply meaningful scene. "Its not too late," he declared. "You aren't committed yet."
The voice was rich and pleasant but somehow Trevor broke out in goosebumps and hustled off down the street. He glanced back. The man was still sitting there, as if he never moved, never spoken. Still rather ragged, still staring.
But that isn't right, he thought. The man, he thought, is me.
And so it was. he was the man. Sitting there staring. The empty window stared back. It was full of Halloween horror already. Only it was real. And then Trevor realized he really had to pee. But although the dream was creepy and weird he didn't want to wake up. Waking up meant throwing away the warm covers, getting out into the cold bedroom. He had takien the advice he read on the Internet, begun to sleep at 65°. It did make for a better sleep, but damn it was awfully hard when he had to get out of bed before morning when the smart thermostat had warmed the room up .
He struggled back-and-forth for a while. Eventually he had to admit that he couldn't get the dream to start up again. As he headed for the bathroom he couldn't help thinking, "What would've happened if I'd stay asleep? Where was that weird dream going?"
