LITTLE BLACK SPOT

I have two choices now. I can either write about coca cola and America, or about my new superpower. I can write about coca cola in one sentence: The only time I feel the least bit patriotic these days is when I drink a coke. We invented coke and I love it. Period, end of essay. Two sentences.

Now for my superpower. Several months ago I had trouble sleeping. I went to the store that sold CBD and THC infused things you chewed up before bedtime that made you sleepy. I have done this for two months but quit four days ago when I realized this stuff was  actually keeping me awake. On top of that., I’d have a thought, or half a thought, and it would disappear completely, like a letter shoved into a mailbox. Unretrievable. I decided not to let it bother me.  There are many things that simply vanish from my head. Like the beautiful Jacket my daughter gave me for my birthday last night, saying it was the one I had loved when she took out a bunch of clothes on my actual birthday last weekend. Do I have even a shred of a memory of that?  Of even remembering she showed the stash of clothes she was going to sell? No. This does bother me somewhat, although I’m getting over it.  Will power is needed to dismiss it, and I lack willpower for everything except worrying about my memory lapses. Those are so frequent I’d be in a psych ward if I let them bother me. So I don’t.

      The first night I took the gummies I did notice something interesting. There is a small black spot on the ceiling above my bed, until then completely stationary, but after my gummy, it began to move. And it began to move just as you might expect, making its way through tiny bumps in the ceiling, pausing to decide which was the best way to go, and after hesitating, would resume its aimless wandering.  I found this fascinating, almost charming, unsure whether it was a sleeping bug I had somehow awoken with my gaze, or a result of my being slightly high. I would then stare intently at my ceiling fan, to see if I could make that move too, but no luck. My son took a close-up photo of the black dot, and it was schmutz. It had no legs, no nothing .It was just a piece of god knows what that had probably been up there for years, not unlike the yellow spots on my kitchen ceiling.

one black spot on ceiling

I forget what that substance had originally been, but my daughter Catherine informed me it had been thrown up there by her twin boys many years ago. These, however, did not move. (Ceilings seem to hang onto whatever gets thrown up on them.) The thing is, I stopped taking the CBN THC days ago, but the spot keeps moving. Nobody sees it crawling around but me. I’ve tested that. Not my family, not my friends, nobody. Can’t you see it crawling around? I have asked them all, because the minute I look up, there it slowly goes making its way to nowhere. Wait, one of my friends left the room shrieking when I asked her the same question. Either she was high, or she thought I had gone crazy. She stayed in the kitchen though, she didn’t run out to her car. I must ask her about her behavior next time I see her.  But this new vision seems to be my superpower. The trouble is it is useless. Once it even descended on some kind of thread, but was back on the ceiling as soon as I screamed. My son offered to take the little spot down but I refused, because I still enjoy watching it go nowhere. He did scrub the yellow patches off the kitchen ceiling, standing on a stepladder., which was awfully nice of him.  Just a minute ago I checked on the black spot and it didn’t move at all. Not even a millimeter. The whole thing reminds me of a famous writer whose name I forget who liked to write about the meaningless, turning it into a story that meant something. He was brilliant. I think that’s all I have to share today.