Faces

I may be the only person you've ever heard of who has a haunted coat. My memory keeps trying to protect me by making these images lost to the dark recesses of my mind only to resurface in the depths of night when the cold sweat of fear starts to creep up my lower back. It's then that you have to slow down. If you run or act panicked they will know and give chase. If you keep your cool they think they have the upper hand and allow you time to crawl back under the covers. Pull them up over your head.

I've been seeing faces. Then they disappear and I forget them. This is important--proof-- I need to remember.

Last Sunday I was up at my friend Scott's apartment in that giant old building on the corner of 72nd and Amsterdam/Broadway. You'd know it if you saw it. Huge and old and towering over the intersection. We were overcome by a longing for french onion soup so we took an excursion out to Fairway a couple blocks north. We came back, set the groceries down and took off our coats. It was cold this weekend. We needed our winter coats. Mine is this big gray thing with an intensely high collar I can get lost in. The inside of the sleeves is silky. I pulled my iphone out of the pocket and held it pressed against my palm, unaware of pressing any buttons. Suddenly the device sprang to life. The camera+ app opened and the flashlight turned on (I didn't know it could do that). Then the camera focused and refocused on the inside sleeve of my jacket. A sign kept popping up "Cannot take photo" or something like that. No explanation why not. When I saw what the camera was focusing on I wanted to take a picture but the button was grayed out.

There, in the crook of the sleeve inside the big gray winter coat was a face. A man's face. With a big gnarly nose and angry beady eyes. I tried to save the frame but pictures had been disabled. I blinked. The face was still there, glaring at me through the camera. All his features mysteriously in beige beneath my flash.

"Hey Scott," I said. "There's a face."

Scott looked and paled slightly. "V," he said. "I think you're the only person in the universe with a haunted coat."

I let that incident slip out of my mind a little. For the purpose of mental stability (a futile effort). Then last night I couldn't sleep. My head would droop into the book I was reading (The Shining) and I would snooze and drool a little on the page, wake up, wipe my mouth, turn off the light, and stay awake. Forty-five minutes later I'd switch the light back on and resume reading/snoozing. Around dawn the light was off and I had no plans of turning it back on until morning; but there was enough light to see by from the city's glow through my semi-opaque blinds.There was a woman in bed with me. Her face on the pillow next to mine. She was tan, brunette, and she smiled slightly when our eyes met. I blinked rapidly and she disappeared-- melted into the folds of the purple throw blanket she had possessed. Melted into the recesses of my memory to be forgotten as a dream.

I never had any dreams of being in my own bed before we were haunted.

As I'm writing this right now the cat ghost is staring at me. Her head turned, her ears pricked. I go over to look at her and she's back to normal. Floating in the center of her black canvas. Looking ahead. Blurry.