It's actually Day Two. Yesterday doesn't count. Yesterday they told me to keep a journal. To write down how I'm feeling. To 'share'.
They tell me I've been here two weeks. I'm sure they're lying. That's how I feel. That's what I'm going to 'share'. I don't know why I'm here. I'm not insane. I'm not crazy.
I've seen some crazy people here. I'm not like them. However, if they leave me here long enough, I will be. I'll be that lady sitting over in the corner by the window talking to her reflection. As long as I'm not the one who stood in the middle of the room and pissed. That's just wrong.
No one will tell me why I'm here. Just that I needed to be here. I need to be home. Only I can't seem to remember where it is. Strange.
That's all for today. I'm tired.
It's actually Day Three. Maybe I'll change it tomorrow.
I still don't know why I'm here. A doctor wanted me to talk to her today, to tell her what I remember. What am I supposed to remember? They won't tell me.
The crazies are crazier today than they were yesterday. Piss Lady shit in the middle of the room today. That was ... shitty. There's another one who plays checkers against herself. She sits on one side of the table, makes a move, then gets up and goes to the other side of the table and makes a move, then gets up... you get the picture. If anyone goes near her she growls. I stay away.
They made me take some medical tests this morning. Wires on my head. I think they wanted to see if I have a brain. They wouldn't tell me the outcome. Bastards.
Maybe tomorrow I'll write about my roommates. Cellmates. Whatever. There are bars on the windows.
Yes, it's actually Day Four. The first day didn't count, but I need to know what day it is. They don't have names anymore, just numbers. Like me. Only I don't know what my number is. Must be 324A, my room and bed. It works.
I mentioned that I'd write about my cellmates today. There are two. I don't know their names. Maybe like me, they don't have one. 324B is some fat slob of a woman. She doesn't get out of bed. She doesn't talk. She just lays there, eats, watches TV, and moans. Great conversationalist. 324C is ... weird. She only shuts up when the lights go off at night. Not that she talks loud, more of a mumble. They take her away three times a day for about an hour each time. When she comes back she's quiet for ten minutes. I timed her. Then she starts mumbling again. She looks at her fingers when she's mumbling. I think she's counting, but I'm not sure. And I'm not going to ask.
They didn't look for my brain today. I must not have one. Which would explain a lot. Like why I can't remember what I'm supposed to remember. They seem to be of the opinion that I'm purposely not remembering. If it would get me out of this stink dive-hole I'd remember.
I don't like it here. I feel like there are bugs crawling under my skin. And I'm never clean. Why can't I get clean? I shower three times a day, but I still feel... dirty.
They still won't tell me what I did. But it must have been bad.
I thought it was Day Five. Then they told me it wasn't. I think they're making me crazy by lying to me. Where did Days Five, Six, and Seven go? Maybe they went to visit my unknown and unremembered past. It's probably nicer there. There probably aren't crazy people there.
Piss Lady is on the rag. She's leaving a trail everywhere she goes. It's rather disgusting. No one will do anything. They just have a janitor follow her around with a mop. I stay out of the community room.
They don't want me to do that. They tell me I need to socialize. I told them about Piss Lady and they told me there's no one there doing that. But she is. They want me to believe I'm crazy. They don't go in there, they don't know. Only the orderlies go in there. They see it. They know I'm not crazy.
They looked for my brain again today. Still not in my head. I wonder where it is. How am I surviving without it? Must be on autopilot or something. They also looked for my heart. I think they found that. Good. At least the blood will continue to flow thru my veins. If not to my brain. Or maybe it does go to my brain, but my brain is in a jar somewhere else. I don't know.
Lost the first half of today. Don't know where it went. I woke up at my usual 8am, then it disappeared until 5pm. Interesting. How can they steal nine hours like that? I don't get it.
Wow. I've heard about people who lose hours or days. They have multiple personalities. Do I have another person living in my body? I hope not. That other person probably has all my memories and is hoarding them. That's just not cool. Unless something really horrible happened and that other person is keeping me from remembering. I've heard about stuff like that happening, too. Thing is, if I can't remember, then I have to stay here. I don't like it here. I'd rather remember.
Bloomburg came to see me today. No one else seems to recall seeing him. So they probably think I'm even crazier than they originally thought. I don't know why I call him Bloomburg. I think his name is Gil. Gil something, but not Bloomburg. I just know I've always called him Bloomburg. And I've known him for years. I just can't remember where we met. Or where we went. But we used to go places together.
Anyway, it was a nice visit. 324B was in the room. Her moaning was a bit distractive, but we managed to visit despite it. At least 324C was gone. On one of her daily disappearances. He only stayed an hour. Then he had to leave, but he promised he'd be back.
He wouldn't tell me why I was here, either. That bothered me. Maybe they told him he couldn't tell me. They want me to remember on my own. Only, they claim he wasn't really here.
This is tiring. Trying to keep sane when everyone around me is trying to make me crazy.
It's really Day Twelve. I'll fix it next time. Because only parts of Days Ten and Eleven happened. On Day Ten I recall waking at my usual 8am, having breakfast, then it all disappeared until my usual bedtime of 11pm. Day Eleven I woke at my usual 8am, had breakfast, then it disappeared until 5pm. I had dinner. I watched TV in my room for a half hour then the day disappeared until my usual bedtime of 11pm.
Today has stayed all day. I like that. And I don't like that. They made me go to the community room today. Piss Lady is off the rag at least. But she's still pissing in the middle of the room. She's quite annoying.
I stayed off by myself in the community room. I people watched. As long as I remember I'm not one of them, it's actually amusing.
Did I mention they told me I don't have multiple personalities? I asked. They also told me my brain really is in my head and not in a jar somewhere. I was being a smartass. They thought I was serious. Better watch what I say around here. Too easy to be mistaken for one of the crazies.
Told you I'd fix it. I had a dream. It's the first time I recall dreaming since being here. I think they had me on drugs. And that's why time disappeared. I passed out.
The dream. Quite strange, actually. I woke at my usual 8am. I was here, in this dreary depressing hospital or whatever it is with the bars on the windows. The Place I Don't Like. But then something strange and mysterious happened. I left my body. I didn't hover like you hear about in near death experiences and stuff like that. I just got up out of my body. I remember feeling totally free and so very happy. I closed my eyes for a split second and I was gone.
Not gone gone. Just not here. In The Place I Don't Like. I was in the outside world again. I was walking along the sidewalk. No one could see me. It was strange, but way cool too. A few people seemed to sense I was there, I could tell by the looks on their faces, but they seemed confused. I turned to look at a man who had turned around to look at me... or in my general direction, anyhow, since I knew he couldn't really see me, then next thing I knew I was inside some other person's body and was walking behind the man I'd just looked at.
I had no control over where this other body was taking me. You'd think being in that body I should be able to have some control, or to know what this person was thinking, where we were going. But I didn't. It was like I was a bug on his shoulder or something, just along for the ride. I know it was a man's body I was in because we went into a restaurant and after ordering we went into the bathroom and I looked down and could see his dick. Looked pretty big. I thought: hmm, wouldn't mind some of that!
I saw him in the reflection of the mirror as we left the bathroom. He didn't wash his hands. I found that disgusting. I tried to get him to go back, but like I said, I had no control over him. I felt nauseated as he picked up his burger with those hands he hadn't washed and brought it to his mouth. Thankfully, because I was along only for the ride I couldn't taste anything. I would have puked in this man's body. Try explaining that to a doctor... puke inside your body from another person.
We left the restaurant and went to his office. He didn't really do anything for the rest of the day. In fact, he seemed to be good at doing nothing while appearing to be doing something. I wondered if I'd ever master that. I was getting bored being his passenger and tried to get out of his body. We weren't doing anything interesting, and if I was going to hitch on another body, I wanted some adventure.
This dream was becoming tedious. I tried to wake up. No go.
I stayed with Mr. Boring Doesn't Wash His Hands for a couple more hours. When he boarded the train to go home and lounged back in his seat I was able to leave his body. To my relief.
It was weird. The train was traveling at a pretty good speed, yet I walked out the door and onto the ground as if it was stopped. Even the breeze it created as it passed me, causing the long grass to sway, had no effect on me. It was like I was there, yet wasn't. I held no substance.
I managed to make my way back to the city. What city? I don't know. The City. I closed my eyes again. When I opened them I was here again. In The Place I Don't Like.
I was sitting on the bed. Exactly where I'd been when the dream began. 324B was moaning. 324C... she looked at me and her mumbling was different. Still incoherent, but more pointed. If that was possible. She looked scared, but more confused than anything. I looked at the clock. It was 6:45pm. I missed dinner.
I liked the dream. I hope I have more.
Days Fourteen and Fifteen disappeared. And yet they didn't. More of those Leaving My Body Dreams. They start out the same. I close my eyes for a split second, then I'm sitting up and leaving my body. It stays here in The Place I Don't Like. I go to the outside world.
I was careful. I didn't hitch a ride with anyone until I saw what they looked like, where they were going, and if they looked like they might be fun. On Day Fourteen I slipped into the body of a woman who had big tits. I've never had them and wondered what it would be like. The only difference seemed to be she got stared at more. Sometimes she didn't mind, other times she did. Depending on who did the staring.
And that's what made that dream the most different. I was able to connect with her emotions, but not her thoughts. And I still had no control. Because if I had, there was one man I would have made her kick in the nuts. He spoke in a language I didn't understand, but his physical actions made it pretty clear what he was saying. It wasn't "My, you look lovely today" that's for sure!
I stayed with her for most of the day. We went visiting to her friends house, then to her mothers. We went shopping and bought some new clothes for a date. While she was trying on her clothes, I got a look at her body. Not the body I would have chose, but I still wished I could feel what it was like to be that body. To know what it was like to be that size. As a passenger you don't get the full effect.
I was hungry. She was dieting. Not that it would have made a bit of difference to me. She could have filled up on ice cream and cake and a fat juicy steak and I'd still be hungry. No fun being a passenger.
On Day Fifteen I again left, but not for as long. I wound up in Mr. Boring Doesn't Wash His Hands body again. Not by choice. I closed my eyes and wound up in his body. No getting out of my body and drifting along until I found a body to hitch onto. Nope. Not that time. That time it was one second in my body, the next in his.
We were at that same restaurant again. This time when he used the bathroom I was able to get him to wash his hands. It wasn't easy. He was nearly out the door before I was able to get him to turn around and go back to the sink. His face reflected in the mirror was one of confusement. Like: why am I doing this? I wanted to scream: So I don't puke in your body!!!
After we ate we went back to his office again. He hated his job. He wanted more out of life, but didn't know what. I couldn't help him. I was little more than a passenger. So we sat at his desk, surfing the web on his computer, hoping he didn't get caught looking at the porn. I wanted him to go into the bathroom and jack off so I would know what it felt like, only I knew I still wouldn't know. How frustrating, to be housed in the body of a man with a big dick and still not know what it was like to be a man with a big dick.
Before leaving the office he surfed some more on the computer, this time looking at sports statistics. The hard on disappeared. We went to the train. He closed his eyes and when I opened mine I was back in my body.
No dreams today. I stayed here the entire time. I tried. I sat on my bed and closed my eyes, but every time I opened them I was still here. In The Place I Don't Like.
No dreams. I've been here. The Place I Don't Like. They tell me I haven't really left my body. I told them I didn't say I had. A dream is just that. Stupid bastards. I know it's all escapism. I'm dreaming I'm what I'm not, what I've never been, what I'll never be. I'm a small woman. In a hospital that has bars and no one will tell me why I'm here.
My amusements consist of watching Piss Lady, Checkers Lady, and Lady Who Talks To Her Reflection. Or listening to 324B moan. And not even a sexy moan.
They've quit looking for my brain. Excuse me... at my brain. They'll think I'm crazy if I make reference to my brain being in a jar. They still want me to tell them what I remember. I still don't know what they're talking about.
On Day Twenty-One I did nothing. Absolutely nothing. They wanted me to go to the community room. I wouldn't go. Piss Lady had pissed me off the day before, after I wrote here in my journal. In fact, I had just finished writing and she walked over to me and pissed on my goddamn foot! Of course, they didn't believe me. So I stayed in my room and watched TV with 324B and 324C when she was there.
They can kiss my ass.
Day twenty-two was interesting though. I woke up early. Six am. Bloomburg was in my room. I asked him how he got there and he told me he had connections. I didn't care how he got there, I was just glad he was there.
I told him about the leaving my body dreams. He laughed and said that was so typically me. I don't know what he meant. He told me he'd make me glad I was in my body. And awake.
He laid down beside me. They make us wear hospital gowns that have the ties in the back and show off your ass if you don't put another one on backwards. So he was able to get my clothes off with two tugs. He didn't close the curtain around my bed, so 324B and 324C were able to see everything. Not that it mattered. One moaned all the time and the other one mumbled. They couldn't tell anyone anything. And besides that, it was kind of a turn on knowing if they woke up they could watch... even if they were crazy.
I don't remember if Bloomburg and I were lovers before I wound up here. But we definitely became lovers after. That morning.
He opened his shirt but didn't take it off. He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and slipped them down past his hips with his underwear. Then he positioned himself between my spread legs and told me to play with my pussy while he stroked his cock. So I did. I ran my finger along my slit, then against my hole before going to my clit, and back again, over and over, feeling my pussy getting wet. All the while he was stroking his cock and I watched it growing, getting bigger, getting harder.
He said: You want me to fuck you? Is that what you want? You want my cock in that tight little pussy of yours?
I told him to fuck me till it hurt.
He lifted my body and had me straddle him, lowering me until I could feel his cock going up my pussy. With my feet on each side of him, his hands on my hips, we slid my body up and down his cock over and over before he pushed me backwards, his cock still inside me. With my hands behind me, I was still able to leverage myself so I could slide against his cock while his thumb rubbed against my clit. I could feel my orgasm building with every thrust, every rub of his thumb. Then he pulled my body up again. He put his hand behind me and I could feel his finger going up my ass, his cock in my pussy, his mouth clamping down on my tit while his tongue teased against my nipple. At that moment I was insane. My moans were so loud they were more like screams. I had an orgasm like none I'd ever had before, my juices gushing over his cock, my pussy gripping against him so tightly he groaned as his own release was cut off momentarily. Then I felt him explode inside me.
When I slipped off his lap, he was soaking wet. We laughed and used the sheet to clean up, then threw it on the floor. I was slipping my sexy hospital gown back on when we looked over and saw 324C had been woken and was sitting on her bed rocking back and forth, her hand between her legs. We laughed again. Bloomburg pulled his pants back up, kissed me good bye and promised to come see me again. Soon.
I don't know exactly how many days it had been since I'd had sex before then, at least twenty-one. I was sore. All day I was feeling the effects of his cock banging into my pussy. It felt great. For the first time since waking in that place, I felt alive.
Nothing bothered me the rest of the day.
They read my journal every day. They don't believe me. They say I made Bloomburg up. That he wasn't in my room. That I used something to fuck myself and pretended it was Bloomburg. My imaginary friend.
I told them that the next time they could check for semen. They said that wouldn't be necessary. Imaginary men don't have semen.
Bastards. They can kiss my ass.
Have decided since they think I'm nuts, I'm not going to write every day. Only when something interesting happens. Something interesting happened today.
Bloomburg was here again. We fucked. Again. This time it was a quickie in the janitor closet. I saw him in the hall on my way to the community room. He opened the door to the closet and went in. When I reached it, I went in. He bent me over, rubbed his cock against my pussy a few times, then plunged it into me. With my hands grasping my ankles, he took hold of my hips and slammed into me, over and over, again and again, ramming his cock in as far as it would go each time. Then, just before he exploded, he stopped and turned me around. He pushed me to my knees and stuck his cock in my mouth, shoving it halfway down my throat before I felt his cum shoot out.