324A

He promised that next time it would be all about me. Then he pulled his pants back up, stuck his head out the door, took hold of my hand and we went back to my room. He stayed for an hour and we visited. But he wouldn't tell me why I was here.

______________________________

Day thirty-five

Am I insane?

I had a dream. Only it wasn't really a dream. It was one of those leave my body things, only different. I left, but I didn't really leave. It doesn't make sense, I know. That's why I question my sanity.

Let me see if I can explain this. Since they're going to read it. I want them to know that I now know why ... or at least might know why I'm here. Only I don't think it's why they think I'm here.

I woke up at my usual 8am. I opened my eyes. I was in bed 324A, but I was also out in the real world. I was hitching a ride with Mr. Boring Now Washes His Hands. Only this time I had some control. Not a lot. I still didn't know what it was like to be the body of a man with a big dick, but I could dictate where he went and what he did. I saw Miss Big Tits. He stared at her tits until I forced him to look at her face. I persuaded him to go to her even though he balked at the idea and fought me the whole time. I made him introduce himself. David Bloomburg.

Then it hit me! This was my longtime friend, Bloomburg! I was in Bloomburgs' body! And I remembered so much! I remembered him coming over to my apartment, hanging out watching movies, chatting about our day, bitching about our lives. And I realized that the man I thought of as Bloomburg, the man I'd been having sex with most every day for the last two weeks, wasn't Bloomburg. For some reason, I just associated his name to the man.

The woman introduced herself as Mary Castlebaum. I knew her, too. She was a client of mine. Only I couldn't, and still can't, remember what type of business I ran.

While I was there, but not there, they made small talk and went to the restaurant Bloomie had gone to while I was hitching within him.

At the same time this was going on, when I was gone but still here, I was also aware of what was going on here. Two of the doctors were in my room. They had wires attached to my head. My body seemed to be in a rigid catatonic state. I was breathing, but there was no reaction to anything. It was like everything was paralyzed. No brain activity. I could see that on the portable machine they had hooked up to me. Yet I was breathing on my own. They were stumped.

Neither of the doctors was the man I thought of as Bloomburg. These were the men I'd seen almost daily, hooking me up to the brain machine. These were the ones I'd joked about my brain being in a jar and they thought I was serious. These men had no sense of humor. Maybe because they'd worked in this nuthouse too long.

Anyway, without preamble, I was in my body again. I opened my eyes, looked at the doctors and said: I'm back now. You can leave. Then I pulled the wires off my head and got up to use the bathroom. They were and probably still are dumbfounded.

Of course, no one will believe this. Just like I haven't been having sex with some man I thought was Bloomburg. I wonder who he is?

________________________________

Day forty

They told me I'm not insane. I don't have multiple personalities. That maybe I'd be better off in a different setting.

They're assholes. They won't tell me why I'm here.

Bloomburg, who isn't Bloomburg, came to see me again. I asked him his name. He told me I already know it. That I have to remember what it is and who he is. I asked him if he was the devil or some demon and I was his human mistress. He just laughed at me and told me that was so typical of me. Whatever the hell that means. Then he pulled the curtain shut around my bed, pushed me down, spread my legs and buried his head there.

Oh my God! It was definitely worth the wait! He kissed my inner thighs, teasing with his breath against my pussy, nipping at the tender flesh around my pussy, before finally using his tongue to lick my slit up and down, burying his face deep inside. He licked, he sucked, he nipped with his teeth, he put his tongue deep inside my pussy. I had to use a pillow to cover my face so no one would hear my screams. I was out of control, my hips rising, pushing myself against him, alternately pulling his head against me and trying to push it away. It was so intense it hurt, but in a way that leaves you feeling so good you think you've died and this is your reward. I have no idea how many times I had an orgasm. I lost count after two.

While I was trying to find my mind again he went into the bathroom to wash his face. And maybe jack off, I don't know. One of the nurses came in while he was in the bathroom. She yanked my curtain open, and there I was with my gown still up around my waist, my legs spread open, the smell of my pussy juices filling the little area.

"Jesus Christ, Matilda!" she said as she pulled my gown down. Her face was pinched and she looked like some eighteenth century prude. Or what I imagine one would look like. Like I'd done something wrong instead of having just experienced the best going down on ever.

"Why am I here, Finklestien?" I asked her.

She told me not to call her that, but ignored my question. Then I informed her that as long as she called me Matilda I'd call her Finklestien. Afterall, I'm 324A.

She took my vitals and suggested I not engage in 'extracurricular activities'. Then she left.

Bloomburg, who is not Bloomburg, stepped out of the bathroom as soon as she rounded behind the door. I wondered why he always made himself scarce around other people. The only people he'd let see him were 324B and 324C. The crazies.

We talked about art for an hour. We always talked about something intelectual. Then he left.

I got out of bed and went over to sit by 324C. She was mumbling and counting her fingers.

"I know you can understand me. When he comes to see me, do you see him?"

She glanced at me momentarily and I'm pretty sure I saw her nod her head. Just a little.

The longer I'm here, the more I doubt my grasp on reality. What if they're right and I'm somehow fucking myself?

__________________________

Day forty-seven

According to them, I'm making progress. I don't know what they mean. Everything before forty-seven days ago is still a blank. Unless I'm telling them things I don't remember telling them. Maybe I suffer from short term memory loss. But.. Wouldn't I be able to remember things from my long term memory? Or maybe my brain was the victim of some sci-fi experiment you thought only happened in the movies. I don't know.

No more dreams where I'm out of my body and hitching a ride with some other body. No more unexplained hours that have disappeared. Unfortunately, this is where I've remained. Here. In The Place I Don't Like. With Piss Lady, Checkers Lady, Lady Who Talks To Her Reflection, 324B and 324C. Finkelstien and Bloomburg who isn't Bloomburg. And the good doctors who are making me well without me knowing how or why. Without me realizing it.

Maybe the goal was to make me insane and think I'm sane so I don't know I'm not sane. Maybe I did nothing to get here. But they keep me drugged up so I don't know the difference. But for some unknown reason I have to be kept away from the outside world.

And they don't let me read what I've already written. They take the pages away every night. No matter where I stash them. There's only so many hiding places. And they know them all. So I can't even look back at what I wrote before. Maybe I'm just writing the same thing over and over. How will I know?

_______________________________

Day fifty

They tell me I'm leaving. Next week. That I'm cured. I'm going home.

Where is home? It's a little apartment over by the river. Downstairs is my shop. I tell fortunes. I guess I used to be good. I made a decent enough living at it. I even used to help the police with some missing person cases. Can I still do it? I don't know.

Why was I put here? Nobody knows. They weren't able to find it in my psyche. All they know is that Bloomburg found me huddled in a corner one afternoon. I wasn't talking. I was ghostly pale. I'd probably been there for a couple days. They finally told me yesterday. After I told them my life story up to two months ago.

Did I go somewhere I shouldn't have? Did I see something I shouldn't have? I have no idea. I think I short-circuited.

Bloomburg who isn't Bloomburg, whom nobody except me and 324C have ever seen, has disappeared. Was he my imaginary lover? Was 324C getting off watching me get myself off? Why do I sense the name Gil? Who is he? Is he real?

My name isn't Matilda. Finklestien, who is really not a Finklestien at all, only called me that because I ... I guess I remind her of someone named Matilda. Or she hates the name and hates me so she just puts the name to the face. Who knows? Well, I might if I ever get my abilities back again.

Actually, I think I did have them. For a while. Here. I seem to recall being here and not being here. And the real Bloomburg was involved. He who will be taking me home next week. He who was kept away from me because they wanted me to get better on my own. Whatever. Might not have taken so long if they'd let me see the real world. Beyond the bars on the windows of this nuthouse.

I don't belong here. I never belonged here. I'll be glad to be gone.

________________________________

Final day/ Day fifty-six

This will be my last entry. The last time they get a peak into my brain. It's a little scary, I'm surprised they wanted to see it at all.

I know the answers.

I know what I saw. I know why I spaced out. And I'm not telling. Mystery is good for the soul. Keeps you interested. Makes you question.

Bloomburg who isn't Bloomburg.... Is Gil. Gilbert Finklestien. No, not really. I just said that for fun. To see if they're paying attention. He's real. He's as real as you, as me, as 324B and 324C and the other cast of characters in this nuthouse. He's waiting for me at home. He's my partner. My soul mate. My other half. In ways they'll never understand. He really was here, and yet he wasn't. 324C is nuts... at a level beyond they're comprehension. That's why she could see him.

Be kind. Live well. Love often.

I'm outta here.