Hallucination music to dance to

 

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Woke up to the music again. 3am in my small bedroom, headache, eyes focussing on the spiral dark swirls in the air.

It had been a blue sky day. Couple of beers in the afternoon. And some tablets. Or vice versa.

I reached for the water bottle and slugged on it until my mouth didn’t feel as dry and poisoned. The dark demons watched. The music played.

When I first started hearing the music – about a year ago – I thought it was my neighbour watching his tv. The sounds were muffled and far away, just a deep bass beat at a sharp staccato tempo. Bit like a shitty Drum and Bass track. But my neighbour is nearly seventy years old and the only noise I ever hear from him is when he comes in at 12.30 every night and throws himself, drunk, into his bed. I sometimes hear the gentle rhythmic banging of his head board as he masturbates. I lay and wonder who he’s thinking of.

But then I started to hear the music outside of my house, in other places. Unmistakeable. I hear it almost every day now. My Psychologist and Psychiatrist say the music is a harbinger of bad times or a direct response to stressors. They ask me if I know enough about it to know it’s not real. They ask that a lot. I answer them with ‘Yeah,’ but sometimes it’s hard to tell. The sinister jukebox in my head whirls on free plays in the early hours and I go with it from time to time. Keeping in touch with reality is hard when the music hums along in the pitch dark. I wait for the voices, but they don’t show too much. Their first weapon is that bass. They only talk when things get even stranger – and, yes, that’s possible.

Auditory hallucinations rip up what you thought you knew about yourself. They conspire and prey on you in weak and vulnerable moments. You are powerless. I sometimes marvel at it, but mostly the experience is repulsive and terrifying. I always feel like the music mocks me, like I’m one dance away from clapping for invisible flies. Eternal private dance. Weirdest of the weird.

This morning. Fog outside – real this time. Cold Autumn air. It’s quiet. Sore head, more tablets. NO noise except from my stereo speakers. It’s 4am. I’ll stay awake all day and bet on sleep tonight like an idiot at a casino wheel – too drunk, too many wrong decisions. Sounds of vomiting from the marble stalls, needles and crushed cans thrown down in the parking lot. Laughter and screaming, neon lights and the sound of living. Vacuous, dull muzak, all of it.

I hear something.

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