Last night my father fell asleep on the sofa. He was likely high and watching Soprano reruns when he drifted off, TV blaring, a cigarette smoldering in the astray. Being a drugged, heavy, dreamless, sleeper he slept until 2am or so. Waking up he felt disoriented and groggy; he wandered into the bedroom in this haze and quickly noticed that things were different. The bed was askew in the room. His eyes went to the headboard which was broken, ripped from its foundation and collapsed on the bed, where his head would have been. Blinking in amazement he noticed that the wall had buckled; a pipe, drywall and nails were jutting out. There were nails all over the room as well. He tried to piece it together in his disbelief: the wall was knocked in but not exposed to the outside, had it simply collapsed? In his curiosity and astonishment he wandered out of his apartment and around the side of the building where he saw a hole, which he deemed car sized, in the outside wall. Though there wasn’t a car or a driver.
Standing in the warm night he thought to himself, “Someone has driven through my bedroom….That could have killed me….Is some one trying to kill me?” Not a completely far fetched question if you knew my father. After running through a mental list of potential murders who either do or do not have the will, he decided that no one was trying to kill him but, more importantly, that someone could have killed him.
Dazed and shocked, he went back inside, sat down on the bed and considered sleeping there. Realizing that he was now exposed to countless creepy crawlies he opted for the sofa and to report this in the morning.
