The Morning Whack-a-Doodle Lollapalooza

Post CXXVI

Here’s the story of sleep, Mool, and super freaky tripping.

There’s a six in the morning? When did that happen? One minute, I’m in Edwardian England in 1765, sat at a desk writing a beautiful soliloquy, wondering if 1765 was actually Edwardian or if I was just trying to be really clever, and the next, my hair catches on fire from the nearby candlelight causing me to wake up screaming. But it wasn’t the hair shenanigans, it was my alarm clock, ringing in synchronicity with my flaming hairdo. I’d fallen asleep, you see. I was dreaming a dream inside a dream. It was a strange start to my morning as I awoke in fits of screams for the second time in only two weeks. Confounded by the strange ‘AM’ on my clock. I thought it was sending me messages.

You see, when I’m in a state I shall refer to as ‘Morning Whack-a-Doodle Lollapalooza’, ‘MWL’ or ‘Mool’ for the sake of confounding things, I’m often rendered so insane that anything insane is the sanest thing imaginable. For example, I heard screeches on that early morn. In my head. I’m not an early bird, you see. I wondered what those screeches might have been. In my Mool, I was reminded of Superman. All those voices he could hear. But I couldn’t hear any voices. Just a thumping bloody headache from all the screeching. It was like a migraine. I didn’t see that in Superman. You know, Superman going for a lie down in a darkened room.

Six in the morning. An alarm that wouldn’t stop ringing. I hit it with just about everything I could reach. I was lying on my belly, face planted in my pillow, distorted and horribly twisted. I’m a fidgety sleeper. I think my upper lip was three inches higher than it should have been. And inside out. I couldn’t move. My body was immobile. My eyes were open but clearly, the signals from my brain to my legs to tell them to move were being telegraphed. Pigeon carried. Morse coded. I eventually found a slipper and started whacking the clock. During this process that was doomed to failure from moment one, I managed to knock over a glass of water. One minute past six. That was all it was.

I scooted my head over to the bedside table and like a little kitten, I started licking up the spillage. I managed to shut up my alarm clock. All was well. And then it started again. I like a drink of water first thing in the morning. But that alarm clock had taken that pleasure away from me. I wanted payback. So I threw it at a wall. I knew something was wrong when it exploded into a thousand brightly multicoloured fractals. Mool Stage 2. The hallucinogenic phase. Things were about to get very weird.

I started my day the usual way. Mustering up some energy to roll and flop out of bed – thankfully, no pins on the floor this time (mother is a seamstress, pins tend to find themselves in unusual places). I quite liked the rug. The strands cocooned my temple as I started my usual morning drool. It carved its way through the mighty strands of the rug and morphed into a mini singing Frank Sinatra. Only a few inches tall. He was fun. I kept squashing him and he kept reforming. I eventually made him so angry he poked me in the eye. I was having a – strange – morning.

The Rocky theme popped into my head as I rolled over, placed my hands palm down by my side and started to push myself up. I did it! I made it on to my knees and threw my arms up into the air in celebration. “AAADRIIAANNN!!!”

I thought I’d moved into Stage 3 of Mool. When the world gets a little less crazy and a little more hazy. I was wrong. Hazy is certainly an improvement from crazy. You still do crazy things but you’re aware you’re doing them. You don’t know why you are doing them, though. At one point, I started chewing on my long hair. Very strange. It tasted of coconuts. Which is odd, because my shampoo isn’t coconut scented. But I digress. I think. I may need to look up that word.

I was doing my morning routine in front of the mirror. Putting my face back into shape, assessing facial hair length, combing my eyebrows. You know, the usual. I must say, it isn’t every day one sees a hobo in their shower. Something wasn’t right. I could’ve sworn I saw him, though. I ignored him. Yes, that was the best medicine. Ignorance. I adorned the toilet and proceeded to fall asleep. Danny didn’t mind. It’s nothing he aint seen before. Danny was the hobo, obviously. There wasn’t a third person in there. I hope…

I was sound asleep on the toilet for only a few moments.

I awoke behind a desk, papers in front of me in a surprisingly dark room and an alarming smell of burning. Oh. It was me. I was literally on fire. I’d fallen asleep, you see, my right cheek on my papers. This positioning of my head caused my hair to catch fire on the candle by my side. After realizing this, I started screaming. At that precise moment, I heard an alarm and I found myself waking up in my bed, unable to quieten that infernal racket, even with the aid of my slipper.

I’d been through three of the five stages of Mool in my sleep in genuine belief that I was awake only to find myself drifting to sleep and awakening to a burning nightmare, which was actually a dream resulting in screaming and an awakening into the real world.

Some would argue all this is a good thing. My brush with Mool in my sleep had allowed me to envisage a possible future scenario that I could avoid. With the additional caveat of two additional stages of Mool to look forward to. You know, Stage 4 – Realization That the Hazy Is Also Crazy and Stage 5 – Everything Is Okay Except for the Fact That There Is a Hobo in the Shower. But I disagree.

I still spilt my water, still threw the clock and still found myself asleep on the toilet. Mool does that to you, readers. Makes you doubt what’s really what.

Although I must say, I am a tad disappointed that the strange shower hobo wasn’t real…

American novelist and writer, Jean-Louis Kérouac (1922-1969), once said: “I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion”.

Peace Out :|:


I’d love to hear your thoughts on this post. You can leave a comment and/or like this post below, or by clicking the little bubble on the top right if you are on the Archives Page. Likes and follows greatly appreciated. Thanks.


Please feel free check out the latest posts from my other two blogs:

To Contrive & Jive
New Posts Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday
Click Here To Read The Latest Post

Hark Around The Words
New Posts Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday
Click Here To Read The Latest Post


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