Today I Woke to the Rain of Blood…

Last night I killed
I cant remember
Who I killed and why I loved
Last night will never seem close to heaven
Today I woke to the rain of blood
– Combichrist

Let me begin this story by stating that I am, in no way, coherent when I first wake up. The best, but not only, example of this is one night I woke up in the middle of the night to loud roaring noise. My room had recently been rearranged to accomodate painting the walls, so the head of my bed was against the windows. Outside, there was a bright ball of light, which seemed to be the source of the roaring sound.
Now, without my glasses I’m one blind son of a bitch, so I can’t identify this glowing, roaring ball. Add on top of that the fact that I had just woken up from a pretty heavy slumber, and my thought process might be understandable:
“Holy shit! The moon is going to smash into my house! No, wait. The moon wouldn’t so that. A comet! Holy shit! A comet is going to smash into my house!”

Yes. Not my finest hour, I admit. I live near the airport, and it was a plane landing. It was just flying way lower than normal. Anyway, the point is that I am a pretty creative thinker when I just wake up, and it usually leads to me having no clue what’s going on. I prefaced this story with the above example because this morning might give the moon-story some competition for the best example of my morning-stupidity.

So I woke up this morning, after a weekend of heavy drinking and a Sunday of unfriendly hangover, and staggered blindly into the bathroom for my shower. I catch a glimpse of my relection in the mirror, and notice something is amiss. Now, remember, I’m a blind son of a bitch, so for me to notice anything means it was pretty obvious. I turn and look at my reflection, and am greeted with the face of a monster.
There was blood everywhere, so thick that I couldn’t make out any white at all below my forehead. My first thought was Oh my god, my face has been skinned! There was no pain, though, so the quasi-rational part of my brain immediately responded with You dumbass, if you’re face was skinned, it would hurt like shit. It’s more likely that you killed your roommate and ate his body. Great job, quasi-rational side of my brain. You’ve really quelled my fears.
So I went back to my bed and put my glasses on, and checked my pillow. There was no blood anywhere on my bed. That struck me as pretty odd, but I went back to look in the mirror with my glasses on. It didn’t help. I looked like Hannibal Lecter, from Silence of the Lambs, right after an unconventional meal. My goatee was crusted with blood. There was blood on my chin, cheeks, neck, nose… it pretty much dominated the bottom half of my face.
Nothing hurt, and I wasn’t bleeding, so I decided to take a shower. If I actually had killed anyone in the night, there wasn’t much I could do about it anyway, so I may as well look my best for the police.
Normally, I’ll take a cold shower in the mornings, but I made an exception today. Seeing my face in roadkill make-up is enough of a wake-up call. So I turned on the hot water and began cleaning up the gore.
Over the weekend, I broke one of my New Year’s Reolutions in a bad way. I smoked a ton of cigarettes. So many that my lungs still ache today, and my nose has been completely stopped up since then. I say this because it really felt great to breathe in the steam from the hot shower. It loosened up all the crud and… Holy shit! My nose is bleeding! I grabbed my shaving mirror and verified that the source of all this fresh blood was, indeed, my nostrils. While this was pretty distressing, at least there wouldn’t be a half-eaten corpse awaiting me in the fridge.
After about five minutes, and ten gallons of blood, I manage to stop the bleeding and clean myself up. I get dressed, and then go back to the bed to make sure there’s no blood on my sheets or pillows. There isn’t a drop. I can’t figure it out, but I need to get to work. I bend down to put my shoes on, and there it is. A bloody sock. I’m not trying to curse with a British accent here, either. I’m saying it was a formerly white sock, which was about 95% red now.
Being quite the detective, I recreated the previous night’s events.
Some catalyst, which I will assume was some home invader that broke my nose, set my nose to bleeding profuselt while I was asleep. My subconscious knows that these are relatively new sheets, and that the comforter matches my walls too well for me to allow bloodstains to ruin them, so it reaches to the floor beside the bed and grabs the first available roadblock to staunch the flow. That roadblock happened to be a dirty sock.
So what’s worse here… the fact that I had an inexplicable nosebleed of unprecented severity, or that I held a dirty sock up to my nose for God knows how long during the night?

1 thought on “Today I Woke to the Rain of Blood…”

  1. OMG this post was both disgusting and hilarious.

    your posts are so much better than mine!! i have blog envy.

    i have the same crazy thoughts when i’ve been woken out of a deep slumber. sometimes the line between dreams and reality is blurry…one time i thought my mom was in my bedroom, talking to me. because in my dream, we were talking.

    yeah, she lives in Va.

    dumbass brain.

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