I see Zebras…

…where there aren’t any.  We were driving past a farm on the weekend and I was convinced there were zebras grazing.  With delighted glee, I thought to myself, “Hey look!  ZEBRAS!”  I was just about to point them out to David, but as we drove by, I realized that in actuality they were horses wearing plaid blankets.  Which had me in near hysterics because they really looked NOTHING like zebras seeing as it was brown and white plaid.  Really, I could have been imagining golfers dressed as horses and it would have made the same amount of visual sense.  Then when I tried to explain it to David he just looked at me like I was insane… AGAIN.

NOT a zebra.

I have 3 a.m. hallucinations.   There was a small hooded woman on the back of our bedroom door not
too long ago.  Reality: David’s grey bathrobe with a burgundy towel on
top of it – but to me – random hooded woman freaking me out to the point of hyperventilation.   The ceiling fan might
have been a luminescent sea creature, or a large bug with five wings and
four eyes, or an alien face.  What’s just a titch scary?  This is what I see
when I’m 100% completely sober.  How schizophrenic does a gal have to be to hallucinate things?

I can walk down the street and make
“come here, kitty, kitty” noises to a small bag of garbage on the curb. 
It’s only when I’m THIS close do I realize that I’ve been
talking to a bag.  Or I’ll see a miniature crocodile, and be REALLY EXCITED over the prospect of getting to touch a MINIATURE FREAKING CROCODILE (Just WAIT until Rissa and David hear about this!!!), in the middle of our sleepy little provincial town, only to find out it’s just a boring ol’ fallen branch.   I like to think of it as “hopefully hallucinogenic.“   (TM Heather)

Those thingies that connect power lines to each other?  Couplers?? Groove Connectors?  Whatever the hell they are?  To me?  Frogs.  Well-balanced frogs with asbestos feet so that they can withstand the power from the lines beneath them.  Although they might just be balanced on telephone wires which I don’t think have the same kick to them – otherwise there’d be an awful lot of fried pigeons up there.

But then, on my walk the other morning, there was a fox.  An actual REAL fox.  A red one.  On the boardwalk. 

Walking right towards me.  Foxes move differently than dogs.  They lope.  They gambol.  Which is why I knew, even from a 100 meters away that it wasn’t a dog and I got EXCITED.  But I didn’t want to get my hopes up in case it was just some random stray, skinny dog with palsy.    It walked nearly up to me – about 6 feet away it sat, regarded me (at this point I was crouched down on the boardwalk to make myself as un-threatening and friendly as possible) and then it skirted around me and loped on its way.  If I’d put my hand out, I could have touched it.  I didn’t.  On account of the having had a series of rabies shots just this last July from the whole feral kittens incident and David’s voice was in my head saying “I will not take you to the hospital if you deliberately keep touching wild animals.”  This close.  I was THIS close.  And I wasn’t hallucinating nothin’!