Written 6-29-25
Can’t sleep. The air is too familiar. The sofa bed, too loud.
Did I really believe I could escape the world’s shadow by parking a camper five hours from civilization?
And the failed marriage? Just another box to check in the farm-life fantasy playbook. Just like everybody else.
Even with the rusty windows pried open, the stale old camper smell lingers, stirring up memories I didn’t ask to replay. And something out there is keeping me awake.
Then again, out here alone on the side of a mountain, paranoia is a survival tactic.
Something tangles itself in my eyelashes. I pluck it out and look at it, cracking a grin. A grey cat’s hair. At least Smurf was worth it. What a cute little kitten she was! Perfect fit for our little camper life here.
Clearly I’m not falling asleep tonight. Might as well get up, I guess.
The peeling wallpaper crunches behind the pillow, as I move. I look out, idly, through the little screened window not expecting to see anything in the pitch dark night. But I do see something.
Way out past where we buried Smurf with love and tears, past my failed grapevines sagging miserably from neglect, I can see the dark silhouette of the distant aspen trees backlit by an eerie blue glow. What the hell?
Why did I never notice that before? I’ll admit the view is unfamiliar, since moving the camper. That’s probably why I never noticed that blue light before… Had to haul the camper deep out of the trees for easy pickup by the young couple I met online, just getting started on their own hallmark card fantasy.
Maybe some furry little life will enter their orbit too, and then leave again one day. They’d better love that little bugger every moment between, though…
Strange to think this is my last night in this old camper. I usually try not to let myself get too sentimental, but I’ve been trying less these days. Guess some sentimentality forces its way in with age.
Being back in here feels like stepping into a previous era of my life, as a stranger. The water stained drapes are the same, but it doesn’t hold the same naive hopefulness it once did. At least for me, now. Maybe it can still carry that hope for someone else. And maybe it wasn’t so much naive as it was… the beginning of a story I thought would end differently. I’m glad to be getting rid of it, anyways.
I stand up from the sofa bed, and take almost two whole steps into the kitchen. Grabbing a bubbly water from the mini fridge I chug half of it, half expecting a buzz to hit after.
Of course, no buzz. Just bubbles and a bone rattling, yet satisfying burp gurgles up from my chest.
I like how that noise broke the hours long silence in here. It’s been too quiet. “Pardon me!” I shout to the nobody within 2 square miles. As if in response, a loons call echoes from the other side of the woods, yanking me out of my own head. Reminding me I’m surrounded by millions of some bodies.
Why didn’t I just sleep in my new cabin next door? Probably would have gotten better sleep over there anyways.
Maybe some deeper part of me knows I needed to take a swim in this blurry sea of nostalgia.
If I’m not just deluding myself again in hopeful fantasy, it does feel like maybe a fragile bridge of meaning is taking shape between these two different chapters of my life.
Or maybe it’s just the hungry parasites inhabiting my guts that are keeping me awake. Feeding me these crazy ideas.
I sip on some more bubbly water, stewing in these scattered thoughts. The strange blue glow again. Teasing me through the kitchen window. What could be causing that? It’s too low to be the moon. Wait, is it…moving? Dancing? No, that’s just the wind playing with the tree branches… Isn’t it?
Hmm. Parasite induced hallucinations, must be. My brain wants to fly away with possibilities of an alien visitation, but my analytical mind pulls back on imagination’s leash.
My beliefs are more rigid these days, much like my lower back. I wonder what contagious ideas and ideologies have infected me. It’s been years since I’ve done an in depth purge of my belief systems. But I’m way too tired for that tonight. Guess these parasites can cling and suck energy from this weary host a while longer. Maybe tomorrow, when the camper’s gone and I’m settling into the new place… Yeah, that’ll be a good time for a mushroom mind flush. Or maybe next year.
Ah, who am I kidding. I’ll be carrying most of this crap, for better or worse, till I’m down in the dirt with Smurf. And honestly, I don’t know if my sanity can handle another dip into that chaos. The last one terrified me. Maybe I won’t come back this time?
How many psychological rebirths can a person tolerate in a lifetime?
In the meantime, there’s still enough gas in this cranky, broken vessel to still be of some use. Enough room to play host to a little love, maybe. Now there’s a strange parasite that actually gives life to its host instead of taking it.
This thought leaves me feeling a bit expanded and confident, myself.
Maybe I ought to go see what that strange blue light’s all about now.
The metal door creaks and rattles as I push it open, nearly convinced to fall off its hinges. As I step out onto the grass, barefoot, the cool dew soaks the bottom of my pant legs. Perfect attire for facing the unknown.
I walk around the camper and see the distant glow.
It seems to beckon to me, calling me towards it.
Well, I’m not just an obedient pet you can call on command, I think, defiantly. To console myself, I grab my machete from the backseat of my truck, then tramp across the field towards the light.
As I approach, I can start to make out shapes. The blue light appears like a configuration of thin glowing columns. I have a strange sense they mean something. Almost like hieroglyphics.
The moment I try to understand their meaning, a message smacks across my awareness as though thrown at me by the light.
Well, it’s more of a feeling really. I stop in my tracks and feel all the tension I was holding in my shoulders release. The fear disappears, and my grip on the machete loosens. Not just my fear of the light, but my fear for my own future, the fear of what my family thinks of me, of being inadequate, my fears about humanity’s uncertain future. And I sense a kind of gratitude to be here. To get to experience this strange adventure in all its colors and flavors. The good, the bad, and the meh.
The light reshapes itself, like the digits of a digital clock ticking past time.
Then a force overtakes me. The moonlit field, the dark forest around me begins to melt and smear in my vision. I feel myself falling backwards. I’m totally disoriented…
…
My eyelids peel open, as the blurred world around me crystalizes. I’m laying on my back. Head tilted to one side. And directly in the center of my vision is a blue, glowing, digital display that reads; 3:48am.
It’s the microwave clock. I’m back in the camper, laying on the sofa bed. When did I fall asleep?
As I lay there trying to process which bits were dream and which were real, a kind of sad longing creeps in.
I peek out the window to be sure. No lights. I realize that the mysterious object that beckoned me was gone. Replaced with the ordinary. And I missed it.
Maybe what this next chapter needs is something further out beyond the horizon for me to swim towards. Some bit of land I can eventually use as a foothold to climb out of this dwelling sea of the past.
As I relax into the bed, something clatters to the floor. I look down.
The machete.
And tracing from the camper door to the sofa bed, a pair of wet footprints. Only now do I notice my pantlegs are still wet too.
I grin.
Good. I’m glad the mystery still lingers.
