I see three large pins leaning against the wall opposite me, the sharp ends pointing up, the white ball handles resting on the ground. They’re all the size and length of spears.

They look just like the pins I used on the voodoo doll for Mama, except of course for their huge size. Since that’s what they look like, and there’s a window on that wall they’re resting against, I probably ought to stand up and take a look at my reflection in it.

Yep, just as I thought: instead of seeing myself as I actually look, I see a giant voodoo doll version of myself. Another of my vivid hallucinations, for sure.

…and check this out. Those pins are now rising up from the ground, floating horizontally, with their sharp ends pointed directly at me. I suppose they’re going to fly right at me, like thrown spears, and stab into my chest and guts. If only this wasn’t a hallucination–I’d love to die.

In the window reflection, I still look like a giant voodoo doll. I’m surely fantasizing that Mama’s ghost is taking her revenge on me for sticking pins into that voodoo doll of mine that I’d made of her. That’s the logical explanation for this hallucination I’m seeing here.

It’s funny how, even though I finally realize what my mind is doing, I’m still hallucinating. Though I’ve brought my unconscious fears and desires up into my consciousness, I am by no means cured of my propensity to see and hear things. My eyes and ears continue to deceive me because I want to continue deceiving myself.

Oh, here they come. Those pins are flying right at me.

I’ll stick my chest and guts out to receive them better, even though I know I won’t be…

“Unghhhh!!!”

This is…the most intense,…the most vivid…hallucination…I’ve ever had.

I really feel…three stab wounds…one just above…my heart…towards my shoulder…one towards…my left side…under my nipple…and one in…my gut…just over…and to the…right of my…belly button.

I’m coughing blood…It really feels…like I am…The pain is sharp…and intense…My whole torso…is drowning…in blood…I’m lying…flat on my back…on the ground.

The pain…is still here…I’ve never hallucinated…this intensely…before…I’ve seen things…I’ve heard things…but I’ve never felt things…not this badly, anyway.

This is no hallucination…this is really happening!

I saw no attacker, though…I saw no one…running into…this alley,…sticking a knife…into me…three times…then running off…If I hallucinate…I’ll at least…see a distortion…of what…really happened…there will be…a hallucinatory substitution…of the actual event.

The three pins…could have represented…three stab wounds..but I should have…seen someone…or something…to represent my killer…Besides, who would have…come in here…randomly wanting…to kill me?

Who’s this…coming up to me now?

“Here he is,” a man among them says. “Ooh! He’s been stabbed! Who did this? I saw nobody else come in this alley.”

“Neither did I,” a woman beside him says. “There’s no murder weapon lying around anywhere, either. No knife, no…He’s already lost a lot of blood. I’m amazed he’s still conscious. It’s a good thing another ambulance got here. We’ve gotta rush him to the hospital!”

As they’re…putting me…on a stretcher, I’m thinking…Don’t bother…I’m gonna die…I want to die…I hate my life…My life is…Hell…

Wait a minute…I can’t explain…what reality…this hallucination…corresponds to…These people…are putting me…into an ambulance…All of this…looks normal…They’ve put…an oxygen mask…on my face.

Could it be…that I didn’t hallucinate…that last time?

Did Mama’s ghost…really do that…to me?

None of those people…saw a killer…run in and…stab me…then run out…They do see my stab wounds, though….They’ve bandaged them.

Very clever, Mama.

You wiped out…Aunt Jane…and that man…because you didn’t…need them anymore…They served their purpose…and you removed them…In making me…doubt myself,…you reinforced…my feelings of worthlessness…so I’d stop trying…to resist you…Now that you…have killed me,…you can torture me…in the deeper, darker regions…of Hell,…while you…destroy the world…without my ability…to stop you.

There is no escape for me.

My no longer believing…in the supernatural…was a wish fulfillment…I could hope…for a quick death…and nothingness afterwards…a nothingness…of peace…no Hell.

Now,…with her spirit…on the loose…since she no longer…has a body…to limit her magical powers…she can do anything…and with me dead,…I can’t use…what magic I know…to stop her.

Wait a minute…

With my death…I’ll be free…from the limitations…of my body, too…As pure spirit,…I’ll be able…to gain access…to all kinds…of magical formulas…just like her…I can still stop her!

The hospital staff…are taking me…out of the ambulance.

A mushroom cloud…just blew up…in the distant sky…The ground is shaking.

The staff…were startled by it…They reacted to it.

I didn’t just…imagine it…The explosion…was real.

Mama’s ghost…is destroying the world…I must die quickly,…free my soul…from my body…and fight her…with my own magic.

But her power…is so much…greater than mine…I’ll have to learn…a lot of magic,…and quickly…to stop her.

How can I…grow in power…quickly enough…to stop her?

Transcending my ego,…uniting my spirit…with that of…the world spirit…should give me…the power I need.

In my dying moments,…I must meditate…my fading…consciousness…should make it…easier for me…

And with no me…no Roger…separate from the world…no ego…for Mama…to target,…she won’t…be able…to stop me.

I…must…concentrate…

There is…no Roger…I’m merging…with Brahman…

My blood…is spreading…out everywhere…as is…my soul…It’s uniting…with the world…

My union…with the world spirit…will defeat…her ghost…

My…inner peace…will destroy…her hate…and wickedness…

Mama,…I’m gonna…kill…you…again…

THE END

Whoa! Look at that huge mushroom cloud in the sky, far off in the distance. No one, other than myself, has even noticed it, much less reacted to it. Now that Mama’s ghost is having me put away, where I can’t do anything to stop her, she can go ahead with her plans to destroy the world and bring us all to Hell, to join her. The people on the streets aren’t reacting to the nuclear blast because her magic is restraining them, hypnotizing them into a state of total apathy!

No one cares. No one will help me. Aunt Jane and…that man everyone says is my father…are just working for Mama’s ghost, to keep me under her control so she can be free to unleash her mayhem on the world. I’m powerless to save everyone from her.

I wanna kill myself so badly, but I can’t, because: I can’t escape from the clutches of the staff taking me back to the mental hospital; I’m too chicken to endure the pain of slashing my wrists, or jumping off of a building, or any other violent form of suicide; I have no pills to OD on; and besides, killing myself will only bring myself further into Hell and under Mama’s control.

There’s nothing I can do to relieve my pain. No…

Oof! What…the…? Did one of those boats on this surreal road just collide with the elephant I’m riding on? Oh! It’s losing balance…I’m falling off!

Aah! I just hit the road on my left side, hurting my upper arm and hip. Now I’m in pain on both sides of my body, after that motorcycle crash I had before.

Hey, I see Aunt Jane and…that man…lying on the road, too. They’re all bloody and unconscious. Are they dead? I’ll check for her pulse: oh, my God, she is dead. She was working for Mama’s ghost, though, helping to ensure that I stay locked away in the mental hospital, so I couldn’t stop Mama from using her magic to make a Hell here on Earth. Why would Mama kill my aunt all of a sudden?

What’s that? Coughing coming from…that man. I’ll go over to him, in spite of my revulsion from him. What does he want from me now?

“Roger…Roger,” he’s saying between gasps and coughs. “I…am your…father. Why…can’t you…just accept me?” More coughing from him–it’s revolting to watch and hear.

Again, though, I must ask myself: why would Mama’s ghost kill off the people who were helping her? I see the hospital worker, the one who was steering the elephant we were on, lying next to ‘Dad,’ dead and covered in his own blood, too.

“I…love…you, Roger,” says ‘Dad,’ then his head falls to the side, and he’s lying there dead, with his eyes wide open. I’m checking his pulse. No, he’s definitely dead.

I don’t understand any of this. Why is Mama doing this?

None of it makes any sense, unless…

…unless it’s all just been figments of my imagination the whole time.

Is that why no one responded to the nuclear blast I saw a few minutes ago? Because there was no nuclear blast?

My seeing boats on the road instead of cars, celery sticks instead of lampposts, animal heads on people’s bodies, mushrooms instead of skyscrapers, fire in the background, blue elephants instead of ambulances to take me back to the mental hospital,…none of these are Mama’s magic, but just my hallucinations going to such an extreme?

All because I can’t accept that this man was my father?

Hey…as I look all around me, I see that the surreal imagery I’d seen before is all gone. Now, everything looks normal: cars and buses on the road, lampposts, tall buildings, pedestrians with human heads, no fire to be seen anywhere at all, not even on the horizon. All there is before me is that car crash–my ambulance lying on its side, with the back door wide open so I could crawl out and look around outside, and my aunt and…my…father…lying here, dead.

The world is just an ordinary place.

And I am just an ordinary man.

I’m no hero. My life isn’t the great melodrama that I imagined it to be, with a demonic mother persecuting me. I probably didn’t even kill her; as everybody else told me, she just died of a heart attack, and I was just a fool sticking pins into a doll that had no effect on her at all. I’m nothing special; I’m just a deluded idiot.

And because of my resistance from them, I just lost the only two people in the whole world who actually cared about me. I’m mediocre, and alone.

This existence is worse than any fiery Hell I could imagine…and it’s all of my own creation.

People are crowding around the ambulance. I’ve got to get away from them, or else I’ll be put in that mental institution for the rest of my life, and I don’t want the rest of my life to be a long one.

Since there’s no mother-demon trying to get me, suicide is still a viable option for me. I’m getting out of here, now, before another ambulance arrives!

Umph! Oh, getting this crowd of onlookers to open up a path for me is annoyingly difficult!

“C’mon, you people! Out of my way!” I shout.

“Hey, don’t be so pushy!” a man says.

“You’re injured,” a woman says. “You need to go to the hospital, Sir.”

“Mind your own business!” I shout, then get free.

I’m running away from the crash scene and down the street. I see an alley between two tall buildings, and I’m running towards it.

A voice whispers in my ear, “Yes, Roger, go in there.”

That was another hallucination, of course, the voice of ‘Mama.’ I don’t believe any of that’s real anymore, but I’m still going into the alley. Piles of garbage bags and boxes are lying against the walls on both sides. Is this where I was before, when I crashed the bike? It smells just as bad.

Looking back, I can see a few people running after me. I’d better hide.

Behind these boxes here will be good. Yeah, those people just ran past. I can hear them running farther and farther away, their footsteps getting softer and softer. I hear nothing at all now.

Good. I’m all alone now. No one to bother me. Absolute peace.

…except for the war going on in my heart.

I hate my life. I never amounted to anything. The only way I could make my life have any meaning was to make up a melodramatic, hallucinatory story about my mother being a witch and a demon from Hell bent on destroying the world, so I could fancy myself a hero about to save everyone. What a load of ridiculous nonsense, all fabricated to hide the truth from myself, that I’m just a pathetic loser! I couldn’t have an average man as a father, because I’m below average.

If only I could have just accepted that man as my father! I could have grown to love him, to receive his love, and then finally learn to love myself! And now he’s dead.

Now I have nobody to value me in any way.

I hate myself, and I want to die. But I’m too scared to kill myself, as much as I hate living.

If only I could kill myself quickly and painlessly. I have no sleeping pills or other drugs to OD on. I have no access to a bathtub and razors so I can do it the old Roman way. And I don’t have the guts to jump off of a tall building.

What am I going to do? I don’t want to be in a mental institution for the rest of my worthless life.

I want to die…now…but I can’t do it.

If only there were somebody out there who could do it for me. Any murderers out there?

Is there anything in these boxes or garbage bags that I could use? Any bottles I could break, and use the jagged edge to cut myself? Let me take a look…

Hey, what’s that over there, by the opposite wall? Another hallucination? Very well–bring it on. Nothing else is helping.

Now, let’s see if I can remember any of those ancient verses, the ones I used to put a circle of protection around myself, to keep Mama’s ghost out.

Bide larma…No, that doesn’t sound right.

Bide lirma oda kaitan…Was that it? No.

How about Bidi lirma oda kaitan…? I think that’s closer to it, but how does the rest of the verse go?

The fact that I don’t have the materials to make the circle–the chalk to draw it, the ruler to draw straight lines for the pentacle, and the candles to light up–isn’t exactly helping me here.

I’ll try again: Bidi lirma ota kaitan…

Wait a minute: was that even from the right verse?

No! That was from the verses meant to send Mama to Hell and lock her up there. I’ve already done that, and she’s brought me here with her, too. By saying that verse, if I’m even saying it right, I’m only reinforcing my problem!

I need to remember the verse I used to say to create a zone of protection that she can’t enter. What I said when I went to the store to buy the amulet and sachet. What was it? She’s making me forget, that’s for sure.

Still, I have to try to remember it. It’s my only hope.

Oh, God, it’s so dark here. Endlessly black, all around me.

I can still hear the thumping of the elephants’ feet. Aunt Jane, that man, and the staff from the mental hospital are still trying to find me in this stinky rectum of a hiding place. It’s only a matter of time before they find me and take me back to the nut house.

Oh, what are those words I have to chant?

Wana…bagga…waiko? Is that how it begins?

Wana bagga waiko, Inan suchi zdago…I think.

Kala bodi gana, Sibako wuli…zulu? No, at least one or two of the words are wrong, because I don’t feel any safer. I’m still in the smelly black pit. But which words am I saying wrong?

I can’t give up. I’ve got to keep trying–not just for myself, but for the sake of the world, which I have to save from Mama’s magic! Now, what were those words?

Maybe if I try different combinations of vowels and consonants, I’ll eventually luck out and say the right combination, like monkeys typing forever and ever until they finally compose a novel. It’s a ridiculous thing to do, but I’m so desperate here, I can’t think of any other way to get the words right. Here goes:

Wana baka waigo,
Inan kushi zdega,
Kala bodi gana.
Sibako woli zulu.

No, still no circle of protection. I’m still trapped in infinite black. But I think I’m coming closer to saying the right words. As I do this, altering the words little by little, I think I’m beginning to remember them better.

But maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m wrong.

Still, I’ve got to keep trying.

Wana baka waigo,
Imam kuchi zdega
Kalu bodi gana.
Sibako woli zulu.

Still not right! Every word has to be perfect, or else I get nothing! Oh, how am I going to get this right? Still, I have to try:

Wana baka waigo,
Iman kuchi zdega
Kalu bodi gana.
Sibako woli…zulu.

Still wrong! I have a feeling that this time, I almost got it right. Still, it cannot be even the slightest bit wrong, or else this effort is all in vain. I’ll bet Mama’s ghost is tampering with my memory, making me forget a verse I had committed to memory not so long ago.

Oh, which part am I getting wrong?

This black void enveloping me, with that shitty garbage stink, is driving me crazy!

I’ve got to keep trying, though…every possible combination must be considered!

I’ve got to get protection from Mama…and fast!

AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!…

WabawakabaigoImankuchizdegaKalubodiganaSibakowolizuku…
WanwakabaigoImankuchizdegaKalubodiganaSibakowolizulu…
WanabakawaigoInankuchizdegaKalubodiganaSibakowolizuku…
WakabakawaigoImankuchizdegaKalubodiganaSibakowolizuku…
WadabakawaigoImankuchizdegaKalubodiganaSibakowolizulu…
WafabakawaigoImankuchizdegaKalubodiganaSibakowolizuku…
WagabakawaigoImankuchizdegaKalubodiganaSibakowolizulu…
WajabakawaigoImankuchizdegaKalubodiganaSibakowolizuku…
WalaBakawaigoImankuchizdegaKalubodiganaSibakowolizulu…
WamabakawaigoInankuchizdegaKalubodiganaSibakowolizuku…
WanabakawaigoImankuchizdegaKanubodiganaSibakowolizulu…
WapawakabaigoImankuchizdegaKalubodiganaSibakowolizuku…
WarabakawaigoImankuchizdegaKalubodigala Sibakowolizulu…
WasabakawaigoImankuchizdegaKalubodiganaSibakowolizuku…
WatabakawaigoImankuchizdegaKalubodiganaSibakowolizulu…
WavabakawaigoImankuchizdegaKalubodiganaSibakowolizuku…
WawabakawaigoImankuchizdegaKalubodiganaSibakowolizulu…
WayabakowaigoImankuchizdegaKalubodiganaSibakowolizuku…
WazabakawaigoImankuchizdegaKalubodiganaSibakowolizuzu…
WanababawaigoImankuchizdegaKalubodiganaSibakowolizuku…
WanabakawaigoImankuchizdegoKalubodiganaSibakowolizulu…
WanabalawaigoImankuchizdegaKalubodiganaSibakowolizuku…
WanabamawaigoImankuchizdegaKalubodiganaSibakowolizulu…

Oh, my God, I’m never going to get this right!

Surely, Mama’s ghost is making me mispronounce at least one word at a time, to drive me crazy!

My face is soaked in my tears. I’m shaking and sobbing so loudly, surely those elephants will hear me over their thumping feet!

What can I do to save myself from her?

Could I try finding Jesus? No, I tried that years ago. Didn’t work. There’s no Heaven to save me from this Hell.

If only I could kill myself…but that would just plunge my soul–if I even have one–straight into Hell all the more, where she could really torment me…forever.

What if I attempted…a dissolving of my ego? A transcending of my ego…ego death! The merging of my Atman, as it were, with Brahman? What if I adopted selflessness, in the Buddhist sense of the word? She cannot harm me if there’s no me to harm.

Through intense meditation, I can achieve ego death, nirvana. It’s worth a try, at least.

I’ll start by focusing on my breathing…slow, deep breaths…in…and out…I don’t need to close my eyes, because there’s nothing to see but absolute black everywhere.

Oh!…That awful smell! The shit of the asshole I’m trapped in!

No, I don’t want to inhale that so intensely. Bad idea.

I’ll have to try concentrating on something else.

The present moment, and my oneness with my surroundings.

Yes,…I must think about every second that passes by, and think about there being no distinction between myself and everything out there that isn’t me.

Oh, my mind keeps wandering. Roger, concentrate!

Mama, like Mara the tempter, is trying to thwart this Buddha.

I’m at one with everything…I’m aware of every passing second…

My body feels as if it’s beginning to dissolve, to merge with my surroundings…good…

Wait…am I dissolving, or am I…being pulled apart, in all directions?

I still can’t see anything in this black, smelly void, but it feels as though my arms are being pulled to their far left and far right, and it’s like I’m rising from the ground. All of me feels…pulled outwards, everywhere.

Is this a merging, or is it a…melting?

Maybe this is how becoming at one with everything is supposed to feel. I don’t know.

What’s that up ahead? A tiny dot of white light, gradually getting bigger. I feel as though I’m floating towards it. The light at the end of the tunnel? My salvation?

Wait a minute: instead of a growing ball of white light, I’m seeing the city I was riding that motorcycle through the streets of. I’m at the tight sphincter now, coming out like a turd squeezing through…POP!

I’m back out in the city now. Oh, thank God I don’t smell that fecal stink anymore. It’s as surreal out here as it was before: giant mushrooms for buildings, tall celery stalks for lampposts, boats on the roads instead of cars, a glowing basketball for a sun shining in a brown sky, and pedestrians with animals’ heads.

Yes, the magic of Mama’s ghost is as strong as ever.

Hey, wait! What am I riding on? This isn’t that motorbike I stole: I’m riding on a blue elephant! Other blue elephants are walking beside, in front of, and behind mine. I know what they represent: Aunt Jane, the staff of the mental hospital, and…that man.

They’re taking me back to the nut house…that prison!

I have to stop this from happening, but how?

I’ll try jumping off of this elephant…what? There’s some kind of invisible wall, or a force field of some kind, keeping me on the elephant! I can’t get away! Mama’s magic is keeping me here!

“Let me go!” I scream. “I don’t wanna go back to that horrible hospital!”

“Sorry, Roger,” I can hear Aunt Jane’s voice saying from farther off. “But we trusted you the last time, and you violated that trust. Now, I’m afraid we have no choice but to take you back there and keep you there for as long as it takes. Judging by the way you’ve been acting, I’d say you’ll probably have to stay locked up there for the rest of your life. I hate to say it, but it’s true.”

“NOOOO!!!”

“And don’t try that act of sanity again, Roger,” one of the hospital staff says. “We’re wise to your tricks now.”

Mama has won.

She has me locked away forever.

And she’ll be able to destroy the world without me able to stop her.

It was better in that giant asshole. At least I could meditate there, have a hope of dissolving my ego, and end my suffering…of course, I could meditate in the padded cell they’ll most likely incarcerate me in, wearing that straitjacket again. It will be uncomfortable, but I should be able to do it.

No, I can’t! Not with all those people there! I have to be alone. How can I dissolve my ego through meditation if I’m constantly being disturbed by shrinks and nurses determined to make me believe that that man is my father?

I really am in an eternal Hell of other people.

There is no exit for me.

What a bizarre cityscape I’m seeing all around me!

As I race down the road on this motorcycle I stole, I’m seeing boats moving on the road instead of cars. The buildings are still giant, polka-dotted mushrooms. Instead of street lamps, I’m seeing giant celery sticks of the same height!

Whoa! I just looked up at the sky, which is a light brown instead of blue. And instead of seeing a bright ball of fiery light for the sun, I’m seeing a glowing…basketball.

The pedestrians all have animals’ heads: dogs, cats, elephants, horses, etc., but all in proportionate size to their human bodies. As I wait at this traffic light, the colours of which are pink (go), orange (slow), and brown (go), I can hear the pedestrians’ conversations as they walk by me: barking, meowing, roaring, neighing, etc. A man with a dog’s head is passing in front of me right now, walking his dog, which is actually speaking: “Who’s this ugly guy on the motorbike?”

Thanks a lot, dog.

The pedestrians have all crossed the street, and the light has turned brown. I can resume my getaway from Aunt Jane, my ‘father,’ and the staff of the mental hospital, who are presumably pursuing me. Off I go!

Anyone else knowing what I’m seeing and hearing would naturally assume that it’s all just a series of hallucinations that I’m having. But I know better. All of these surreal images and sounds are just the magical art of Mama’s ghost. She’d have me believe that I’m delusional.

The real delusion, however, so cleverly set up to look as though it’s normal, was my ‘recovery’ in that hospital, imagining that man to be my father. The peacefulness of that whole situation was staged by Mama, set up to distract me from her real plan, which is to escalate the world’s problems, exacerbating the bad economy and the ecological crisis, and of course, to bring to a head the political tensions between the US and NATO on one side, and Russia and China on the other, to bring about a nuclear World War III and annihilate all life here on the Earth!

Such is the scheming of Mama’s mischievous mind.

This is why I must do what I must do, to save the Earth! I can see now that it’s my destiny to be a hero, and a hero cannot be the son of a mediocre man like that one I left with Aunt Jane. I must be someone better than that, the son of a great man murdered by Mama’s treachery!

She’d have me doubt my senses, memory, and perception. That’s why she’s putting all these bizarre images in front of me and all around me. It’s all an attempt to control me! If I’m under her control, she’ll be free to do whatever she wants to do, to destroy the world. I must stop her!

All my life, from when I was a little kid, right up to her death–her manipulating me into killing her with the voodoo doll–she was making me believe that I never perceived anything correctly, that I was always seeing and hearing things. I now know why. She always knew–secretly, of course!–that I have special, magical gifts, inherited from her. (These gifts of mine were clearly seen when I so quickly learned how to block her magical powers.) She had to trick me into having no confidence in my own abilities, so I wouldn’t be able to stop her in her grand plan to become an all-powerful, disembodied spirit, and destroy the world!

I’ve got to stop her…but how can I do that?

I have to stay away from Aunt Jane and that man, because apart from how repellent I already find both of them, they’ll have the hospital staff drag me back into the nut house, to be imprisoned there indefinitely. Staying away from the two of them means staying away from my apartment, my laptop, and my protective circle and witch bottle.

That means I’m homeless.

I can’t make any more money because Aunt Jane is running the Pet Valu store.

I’m unemployed.

I can see towering columns of flame all around me, in the background, behind the surreal cityscape of giant mushrooms, celery stick street lamps, boats on the road, and animal-headed pedestrians. Everyone is going about his or her business, as if the fiery background wasn’t even there, as if there was nothing strange about boats for cars, mushrooms for apartment buildings, and animal heads instead of human ones.

I, however, continuing my racing about on this stolen motorcycle, know that I cannot find any reference books on magic if the library is now either a mushroom or is on fire. I cannot gain access to my mother’s inheritance money if the local bank is either a mushroom or burned to the ground.

I have no home, no job, no money, and no access to sources that can protect me from Mama’s magic.

What the hell am I going to do?

Aunt Jane, that man, and the hospital staff must be pursuing me…I’ll look behind and see if…oh, no!

A herd of stampeding elephants is right behind me!

Instead of elephants’ roars, I’m hearing the voice of that man: “Roger, come back! We only want to help you!”

I’m giving the bike some more gas.

Mama is really giving it everything she’s got to make me lose my mind and defeat me. I can’t let her do that!

I must keep my head. If I succumb to her surreal tricks, if she succeeds in disorienting me, or in having me caught or killed, there will be no one to stop her from destroying the world!

I can’t believe how well I’ve been able to dodge this traffic of boats, the celery street lamps, the giant mushrooms, and the animal-headed pedestrians so far. I’m flying down the street like a professional motorcycle racer…and I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before in my life…and normally, I’m totally spastic, totally without the most basic coordination.

Could my racing away like this really be happening, or is this one of Mama’s tricks, to give me a false sense of confidence, before she springs her inevitable trap on me? Probably. We’ll see.

What’s that up ahead? I’m seeing eyes and fanged teeth forming on the celery stick street lamps! They’re looking at me with threatening faces, like in a bizarre cartoon. Arms are growing out of their sides, arms that are grabbing at me!

The gripping green hands are missing me, so far. I’ve been able to dodge them. Where did my cycling skill come from so suddenly?

Bumps in the road are popping up like bubbles. I’m managing to dodge them, too…so far.

Those bumps are coming up in the most surprising place…oops!

I just hit a big, bubbling bump, and I’m flying off the bike and into the air. In front of me is a huge, giant, brown, swirling vortex with a black hole in the middle. It looks like a giant…asshole?

…and I’m flying right into it.

…screaming as I go in at top speed.

Inside now, I’ve landed with a painful thud that’s hurt my right elbow and hip. Instead of smelling shit, I smell…garbage, everywhere.

It’s pitch black in this smelly place. I can’t see a thing.

I can hear the elephants trampling their way in here.

The voice of ‘my father’ is saying, “He fell off the bike and landed somewhere in this garbage dump. He can’t have gone far.”

“He found a good hiding place,” my aunt just said, as I’m feeling their thunderous elephant thuds shaking the ground. “This place is like a labyrinth. We’ll never find him.”

That’s encouraging to hear. I can stay where I am, at least for the moment, rub my injuries, which aren’t that bad, and think about all of these crazy things that I’ve seen.

What I’ve been seeing must be much more than mere hallucinations. While it’s true that I’ve seen and heard things my whole life, they’ve never reached a level of surreal intensity anywhere near this! Oh, all these nonsensical images and sounds are Mama’s doing, I’m sure of it. This is all her magic, far more powerful than the magic she’d used when physically alive, since now she’s freed of the limitations of the body and the senses.

As bizarre as the sights and sounds have been, they are explicable, in terms of deliberate choices Mama’s ghost has made, her knowing I’d find them disturbing.

The brown sky is the colour of shit, reminding me of a time when, in PE class in high school, I was playing basketball in the outside basketball court. The ball went out on the grass at one point, and it fell on a lump of dog turds. One of the school bullies found the ball, picked it up, and threw it at my head, calling out my name as it flew in the air so I’d get hit in the face with the shit-smeared part. Everyone laughed at me, of course.

I went home crying about it. I told Mama what happened: she laughed, too, saying I should have worked harder at improving my basketball playing. She obviously had me see a brown sky and a basketball sun to remind me about that day. Her cruelty knows no bounds.

I hate eating celery, and as a kid, I was made by her to eat celery sticks one afternoon. I choked on one because of her continued pressure to finish them: I was six, and I thought I was going to choke to death. Again, street lamps made to look like giant celery sticks, with malevolent faces, was another attempt by Mama to re-traumatize me.

When I was ten, on a summer camping trip, I was in a small boat on a huge lake, deep in the middle of the water. A bully pushed me off, and I, not a good swimmer, almost drowned. Back home, I told Mama about it. She laughed again, blaming me for not working hard enough to improve my swimming. This explains the boats I saw on the road.

I’ve generally been afraid of animals, having been bitten by dogs and scratched by cats as a kid. They seem little different to me from people, who all seem like bullies to me. Hence, pedestrians with animal heads and talking dogs and elephants.

Oh, don’t get me started on elephants!

As a kid, I used to have nightmares about being trampled on by stampeding herds of elephants or horses. I’d feel crushed by the idea of…that man…being my father, hence her associating him with elephants.

…and what about that giant asshole vortex I just flew into?

Well, I don’t want to go into too much detail about this, the reasons of which should become obvious soon enough, but when I was about twelve and in summer camp again, one of the counsellors took an interest in me, and he…

I’ve already said too much.

Again, when I tearfully told Mama about it on my return home, she laughed at me and called me gay.

Are you starting to understand why I wanted her dead?

This darkness everywhere is really enveloping me. I feel like I’m floating in endless, starless space.

This is the hell Mama’s ghost is trapping me in.

Without the library’s or any other magical resources, I’ll have to rely on my faulty memory to think of any of the other magical ideas I researched before. I hope I can use it to put up a decent fight against her.

The odds are not in my favour.