Here goes...
I'm not sure when it started. But I know that at some point I am sitting on the toilet taking a piss when I notice he's there. Just standing in the doorway, looking at me while I pee. It's the shoes I notice first, those Timberland brown boots that rappers were wearing for a short bit but now are back to being work boots for blue collar white guys. They're clean, just like everything else he's wearing. White pants, not jeans, more like scrubs. Yeah, they're definitely scrubs. Along with the white scrub top he's got on. It's all loose, and the shirt is only halfway tucked in. The guy has gotta be well over six feet, and he's pretty thin. He's got reddish blond hair, and he can't keep still. Not in a methy way. More in a anxious and impatient way. I get it. He's fresh out of the mental ward. Whether he was let out by the doctors or if he escaped is unknown, but somehow I know his name is Perry. And he scares the living shit out of me.
I try to ignore Perry sometimes. He mostly just stands there twitching over me. He never speaks unless spoken to, which is fine because I hate his voice. It's twitchy just like him, like his vocal cords are wishing they had a million other things to do. When I ask who he is, he tells me that I created him. He's in my head. And now I really don't want to speak to him.
It's true. No one ever sees Perry. I have no doubt that he's in my head. Schizophrenia has happened before in my family, so why not me? I can lose it just as well as anyone else. I realize that he only shows up when I'm alone, which is really annoying. This is why he comes around so often when I am in the bathroom. With every glass of water I drink comes the dread of having to see those brown boots when I can't hold it anymore.
I tell my friends what is going on, and while they are very understanding, it's not easy to keep me company all the time. I try going to public restrooms, but I see those awful shoes under the stalls. I beg my friend, Jen, to just stand in the stall while I go, but the sight of those boots causes me to start screaming and crying so hysterically that she had to carry me out of the public restroom. What's worse is that I've pissed myself while freaking out.
This whole avoiding Perry is only making him more upset. He's angrier, but he doesn't speak. I just see it in his sunken eyes and his violent jerky hand motions. He's in the elevator. He's in the closet. Those fucking boots clomp around the hallways at night. And it's all in my head, and no matter what I do, he won't go away. And I know that no matter how loud I scream, he is not going to just go away.
It sounds so silly now that it's all written out. I mean, how scary can a guy named PERRY really be? It's just the fear of being crazy, I guess. Uncurable. Seriously fucked up.
On a related note, I am in our new house. I've spent almost every night here alone because Gren is working overnights at the hotel all this week. The obvious symbolism of this dream is definitely not lost on me. Don't worry, subconscious. I read you loud and clear.
