Tomorrow morning I fly across the strait, across a quarter of this great land, and face my past, face my mistakes, my greatest mistakes, head on.

To say that I’m not worried would be lying, I’m petrified, stressed, and on top of that, this house is giving me bad vibes.

Last night, when I finally managed to settle enough to sleep, I woke, no more than 5 minutes later, only to find myself sitting at the kitchen bench, a cigarette burning in the ashtray before me, a glass of  bourbon, neat, the way I like it, and blood, dripping from the bench, running across the floor, and into the pantry, I started shaking uncontrollably, broke out in a sweat, I-I-I, I downed the glass, I know I shouldn’t’ even, I’d been clean for 5 weeks, and it felt good, but as the liquid ran down my throat, I felt better. I slowly got to my feet and walked over to the pantry door, I need to work out the best way to explain the feeling I had, maybe, it was more a memory, maybe something more.

I gripped the handle and pulled it open, that’s when I woke up. This time back in bed, it was morning, and obviously, whatever that was, it wasn’t real. That’s before I saw the empty glass and an astray full of cigarette butts, I can tell you, I almost lost my shit, I almost ripped the party door off, my heart was in my mouth, but there was nothing unexpected in their.

Anyway, I don’t know how to explain any of what happened last night, all I can do is put it down to nerves about tomorrow, my subconscious trying to find an outlet that’s manifesting itself in my dreams, causing me to sleep walk maybe?

Who knows, all I know is tomorrow his happening, it has to, otherwise, what else is there?

Marty