Building 9 “The Old Cassette Tape”

“I had a dream that my girlfriend died. I had received a card, or maybe discovered a card of condolences, placed on top or added to an old card she had sent to me before one of our special dates. Or at least, a special date in the dream.

I couldn't make out the card. It is hard to read in a dream. But then I was standing outside the hospital with a medical report, and it was telling me that she was dead, but not from what.

Then I was in her home, or an emotional approximation. Her mother was there, and she had just realized that her daughter was dead. That she had been interacting with a illusion, with a memory for weeks. And her daughter told her to let go of the delusion...

When she did let it go, her daughter went away.

I woke up, and I tried to message her like I always do, but I couldn't find her number in my phone. I couldn't find anything about her online. Her mother’s number was missing...she is missing. I know that last night I messaged her. She had surgery and I was trying to cheer her up because she was in pain, but I woke up today and it is as if she never existed.

This isn't some dream where you wake up and realized it wasn't real. I have years of memories with her. And I can't imagine I could have made that up.

Movies we saw together that I didn't see by myself. Camp grounds she knew about that I didn't. Even the restaurants we discovered together...

I've been too scared to ask anyone about it. No one would mention my relationship either way. Not without me mentioning it, and I feel sicker than I have ever felt. And there is an emptiness that seems to just sit in my stomach.

I keep crying like I have lost someone.

And I have found the restaurants we went to together. I found the items on the menu we ate. I found clips from movies we saw. They are different than I remember...

Nothing is like I remember.

I have years of memories of her and I know she is real. Or was real. Because maybe she is dead like in the dream. But I find things...like incomplete erases. Things we did together or things only she would know that are still true. Things I never tried to find out about on my own. And it is like someone or something erased her from existence.

I don't know what to do.

I haven't eaten since I woke up.

I haven't taken a shower.

I want to wake up again. Not somewhere else because this is somewhere else.

If I wake up again, she will be alive, and I will be happy. Because this feels real, but it can't be real.

I remember how she kissed.

Or that she doesn't like cut flowers...”

Received an old cassette tape. The person on it said the above. Cried over and over again. Had to stop. But was desperate to explain.

Address comes from a home on Wellington Street. Went there. Different person lived there. A woman. Said she didn't want to talk to me. To anyone.

She looked real sad.

Left it alone...

Margaret was here when I woke up. Can imagine how it would feel if she just disappeared. But don't want to think about it. It hurts somewhere deep and I feel like hell now. Like the tape contained a sickness.

Something that spreads.

Been trying all morning to get rid of these emotions. Keep needing to check on Margaret. She is still here...

What the hell was wrong with that kid? Why was the woman sad?

Got the police reports on the various crimes by The Surgeon. Went and saw the first victim.

Need to find The Surgeon.

He was having a bad day, but was willing to talk. Could still see the stitches in his skin. Could see where the doctors tried to reattach the flesh to the muscle. It didn't work out that well. Only so much you can do when the skin has been stretched like that. Could have cut off the excess, but there wasn't excess skin. It had just been stretched and sewn.

The man looked sick.

Asked him if he ever heard from the man. The Surgeon. He said no. Said he never saw him. Seems to be telling the truth. The man was curled up in a ball. Doesn't even seem bothered by it anymore.

I don't want to write anymore today.

Feel sick.

Like I lost someone important. Like I lost Margaret.

Something is contagious in that message.

There was a bad thunderstorm last night.

Someone was struck by lightning in the park.

There were scorch marks on the grass...

So sick.