Wednesday

04/21/86

Yes. I was right. Everything is definitely becoming clearer. Slowly, true, too slowly for my impatient thoughts, but it is clearing up. I've come up with four things that I didn't pay attention to at first, but that are nonetheless very important.

First – the ball is where I heard that melody my doll dances to. I was dancing to it myself – around and around and around, just like she does. And just like her, I was dressed in white.

Second – I now remember that all throughout the ball I had been searching for something, I don't remember what, not yet, but I was definitely searching for something other than Toby, because I don't think I even remembered him at the time.

Third – I clearly see myself smashing into a glass wall with a chair, or something like one. So it was I who sent all the glass flying, I who shattered that eerie world that then fell down around me and, actually along with me. I had fallen too, and I had landed in all the broken pieces that had become junk. I think it actually might be the same pile of junk that my "room" was part of. This leads to some interesting points and more questions, but I'll come back to that later.

Fourth, and most importantly – there were words in that melody – important, meaningful, words that contained an even more important message. I feel like I would instantly know the answers to all of my questions if I could only remember, or hear those words. But I didn't hear them, even when all of this actually happened . . . the whole thing was so overpowering, that I couldn't pay attention to a detail like that . . . now I wish I had . . .

Most of these point's came to me after I had dreamed it for the 3rd time. The last one, though just seemed to come from thin air, because I still only hear the melody, however hard I listen. So how do I know there are words? I don't. Or, rather I just DO. I realize the truth of it, although I don't know how. There are, that's all. But it's useless to even think in that direction.

I'm actually remembering a lot more by writing all my thoughts and memories down . . . that way I can concentrate on the details without worrying about losing my main thread of thought. A lot more is coming back to me.

I'm so curious, so intent on knowing, and remembering – I'm not that scared by all the strangeness that surrounds me. It has now become second nature to me. I mean – this is what I wished for all my life, isn't it? To be surrounded by strangeness? To never have an ordinary life? Now, I can finally appreciate it. I'm glad I've learned to.

Yes, there's strangeness all right. Only now do I realize that I haven't been writing anything but my own thoughts down, so it's unclear as to what goes on around me. I've talked of the nighttime strangeness, but forgot to mention day. Let me fill you in.

My parent's have gone away for a week to stay at a relative's house in another part of the country. Today is the third day they are gone, and I'm quite used to being alone with Toby. Actually – it feels strange to admit this, but I kind of like it. There's nothing to distract me from the thoughts that are top-most in my mind, I don't have to hide my thoughts or my papers from anyone, I can be myself, and I haven't been myself for ever so long, that it feels wonderful – like a nice stretch after being curled up in one position for a while. My parent's are coming back late on Sunday (today is Wednesday, by the way), so I've got four whole days to myself.

Toby and I get along just fine together – he also seems to be his old self again, just a little calmer. Now and again a strange look will pass across his face, but I've learned to disregard these . . . perhaps he, too, is trying to figure things out. I feel like I have two really good friends – my writing and my baby-brother.

Oh- something else I should tell you: I took my old things out. All my old friends have been dusted off and are back to their proper places – even the doll in white. Although . . . that's not exactly true . . . she's not exactly in her proper place . . . Both her and the little red book that has had such a big influence on me are separate from all my other things. They are locked up behind glass in the far corner of my bookshelf.

I look at them often, thinking, questioning analyzing all that had happened, but I seldom touch them. This is one of those strange things I was talking about – they have an emotional effect on me. After I hold them in my hands, or even stare at them for too long, I become emotionally unstable, quick to anger, quick to cry. I've tried to make some reason out of it, but it doesn't seem like something reasonable, so I stopped trying, and just let it be . . . maybe sometime, when I've found the answers to other questions, I will be led to solve this riddle too.

Toby was extremely happy when I took out all my old things. He laughed and gurgled and insisted on touching everything. The book he treated just like everything else, but the doll caused him almost visible pain.

It seems to have the same affect on him as it does on me. He didn't throw it down, or do anything really; he just sighed so sadly it almost brought tears to my eyes and gently put it down, watching as I placed it behind the glass. I wonder what he was feeling . . . and why . . . I was her for a little bit, so I can see kind of why I have some emotional connection, but Toby? I don't know . . . could he have seen me?