Mysterious markings on one’s body are probably something that’ll probably make ANYONE paranoid – and I’ve got kind of a history with it. Years ago, nightmares of torture, waking up with bruises where I’d thrashed and hit myself. In college, a roommate who’d wake up screaming and covered in blood had had recurring nightmares of being attacked by wolves. We caught him sleepwalking to where our palette razors Lived and inflicting the cuts on himself in his sleep. I know I’ve bitten Heather in the face in my sleep, so the marks aren’t just for myself. Fugue states also in college, I got up to all SORTS of mischief without being conscious of it.
So it was with no small amount of apprehension I looked into the mirror this morning to see weird red marks on my stomach. Was I bleeding internally? I’d had HORRIBLE indigestion keeping me up well into the night. It kind of aches. DO I remember jabbing myself with a mic stand? Walking into something?
All morning I’ve been checking the marks to see if they were growing, racking my brain to remember some strange injury… then the cat and I locked eyes and I remembered the eviscerating kick I’d received for picking him up in a weird way last night.
Self-inflicted indeed.
What a relief!
