Day 309 – Folie a Deux

I’m so sorry. Blame Capatain Morgans

Word count: 609

“James? James?”

He woke alone on his bed. When had he fallen asleep? He could not remember. He had drunk so much. He had drunk so much the night before. Was he even awake? It was so bizarre. All he remembered from the night before was shots, alcohol and loud music. Had he played a gig? Had he taken drugs? It felt very much like the old days. The ceiling was spinning, the world was spinning, what was happening? He felt like he was in a party? A university party? There were people playing beer pong? Where was he?

James felt sick. His head was spinning – he couldn’t control his body. It had been another night out with Jonny, hadn’t it? They had taken too many drugs and too much drink and tomorrow they would regret it. Where was he? It did not look like New York, was that where he was meant to be? James was not sure. It looked like Cambridge to James. He had spent most of his younger adult self in that place. All those lectures, exams and student promotions. It reminded him of his old days when he wouldn’t remember what he had drunk or taken or whatever had happened the night before. His arms were numb. He couldn’t concentrate. It was weird. He felt like an adult trapped in a child’s body. Where was he? It was a strange dream, wasn’t it?

James was at a party. He felt out of control. He felt as if someone else was controlling his movements. He felt almost free despite this. He had no thoughts, no worries; whatever it was it was amazing. It was light weight. It was zero gravity. There was no way it could have been anything he had taken, right? James was passed all that? Right? He was older and responsible? Oh god he was going to be killed the second he got home. He was going to be slaughtered? His wife would not stand for this if he was going to be found out. Jonny would tell inadvertently of course.
Ping pong balls, what was happening? There was ping pong balls? What was happening? James was all over the place. His hands were holding a guitar it seemed? He wished he hadn’t have drunk too much. The room was spinning and his dignity was rapidly out of control.

“Hello? Hello?” James was screaming at himself. This was either a strange dream or he was so far into dreaming he could not tell. This could not have been real, and if it was he was going to kill Jonny in the morning. His brain was not designed for this sort of alcoholic consumption anymore. He wanted to have something sobering. He wanted to see things he wanted more than anything – freedom, the universe, the everything. It suddenly all made so much sense. What was happening? Someone else was controlling him?

A large headache. Bright daylight playing with his retina like some wild hyena. Where was he? The headache pierced him like a sharp sword. It was awful. It was painful. James picked himself off the floor. He was on some sort of stairwell. Why was he there?

Above him there was another staircase? His head spun as if it were orbiting something that he were not aware of? What had happened? He had some vague recollection, but he was not sure what had happened? Was he in England or New York? What had happened? The lasting memory was of sitting on the side of his bed and being slightly tipsy…. What had happened? Where was he and why was his rib-cage hurting?

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~ by S.G. Mark on August 11, 2012.

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