Tonight I am struggling in a different kind of way.
Something strange is going on.
In the last post I’ve told you all about the passionflower incident in the vault, but I didn’t explain it in detail. I didn’t explain how I really felt about it and the thoughts that went through my head.
I told you all I felt someone was trying to frame me or perhaps send me a warning.
But let me explain this story in more detail.
That day I already woke up feeling odd. Even my new co-worker said “today is going to be a weird day”.
As if she knew.
We do these things called “runs”. Runs are essentially when you take a Jansport backpack, take money, walk across the park with it, and deposit the money into the machines scattered around the park for employees to use. It’s also how we get record of what they deposited at the end of their shift.
During these runs you can take coin, bills, or both, up to a thousand dollars. Yes, I’ve carried ten, twenty thousand before, but that was with security escort and with another person. Runs we do individually without security.
On the runs where I took coin, I kept coming up short. On all of my runs that day I had to keep writing <.10> or <.20> on the over-short sheet. It looked like I was stealing dimes.
All of the bills I kept depositing kept rejecting at a high rate, so I had to stay at the terminals for longer than usual making sure the ones that were good bills and not crumpled or torn would deposit.
When my co-worker returned from her lunch, we were instructed to practice counting the vault to get quicker and more accurate at it. The FIRST thing we counted was the rolled quarters.
I even leaned on top of the wood and swiped m arm across the wood touching all the canisters to make sure my count was accurate.
We counted them over twenty times.
There are always two people in the vault. You need two finger prints to get in and there are three cameras in a space no larger than my room.
After twenty minutes of standing there with my new co-worker just chatting because we were sick of counting the same thing over and over again, I found the pill. Not her, just me. It appeared out of nowhere.
They’re fairly large pills and hard to miss. They look like this:
They have a very pungent grass smell to them. Because, as I’ve said, it’s just dried flower petals in a digestible capsule. It’s 200 mg, and the standard dosage is usually 500 mg to 1 gram. So, to be honest, they’ve never done anything for me. It was the placebo effect. It takes 2mg of Ativan to even start my eyelids dropping, there’s no way .2 grams of a flower is going to do anything to this system of mine.
The odd thing? I haven’t even been able to take them for two weeks because It’s a struggle for me to swallow large pills, it always has been. The bottle, which I keep in my bag, was locked in the locker in the hall of the basement. The key is on my chain with my work id which is always around my neck. I’m the only one with access to that locker.
My first thought was someone was trying to frame me, send me a warning of some sort, perhaps that snitch from mid-shift or something.
But later I realized something. There are ALWAYS two people in the vault. There is ALWAYS someone monitoring the vault cameras. That means two people would have had to place that pill there.
When my trainer came into the vault after her lunch to see how we were doing, my co-worker and I gave her awkward smiles and my co-worker said we’d found weed (remember, she’s inexperienced about drugs) and I showed my trainer where. But my trainer kept talking about tips on working in the department, like she always did. It was as if she didn’t hear a word I’d said.
Later that night I couldn’t shake the feeling that none of what happened was even real. Tonight, I’m convinced none of it was real.
It just doesn’t add up. Two people would have had to placed the pill there. Someone would have had to either been taking it themselves, or stolen it out of my locker which is impossible. And none of that explains why the pill popped out of thin air or why my trainer, who loves juicy gossip, wouldn’t respond at all to our exciting discovery.
The management never said anything about it again.
None of it felt real. The whole day felt odd. Either someone was setting me up with the coins and sending me a warning with the pill, or none of it really happened at all. I can’t remember what I did with the last rejected dollar I brought back to the cash room, I can’t remember if I signed the paper.
I’m used to my experience in this reality not feeling real. I’m used to reality not feeling real. I’m not used to external experiences not feeling real. In fact, it’s done a good job of shocking me to my knees. And that’s a hard thing to do.
There’s only been a few scattered incidents of that happening and they were minor, so I ignored them. Much like the time I ignored the day where I kept hearing my name being whispered. I ignored the day I heard my car falling apart while I was at the stoplight and I started freaking out and putting my ear to the dash board and not being able to identify where the sound was coming from because it was coming from all around me and then it suddenly stopped and I fell back into reality. I ignored the words I heard over a megaphone that no one else seemed to hear. I ignored the instances of constantly feeling like someone or something is watching me.
Oh the irony, when Imagine Dragons sings in your ear “Now you can’t tell the false from the real”.
There you go, they’ve just confirmed it.
Apparently the night of the incident I told my boyfriend someone else could also be using Passionflower but I’ve pretty much eradicated that option because it lacks logic. The incident not ever having happened makes more sense than someone else in that office taking passionflower and leaving it in the vault simply because, like I said, it popped out of thin air. I’d swiped my arm in front of the quarters half a dozen times, moving the canisters around, there was no way in hell we wouldn’t have seen that pill.
It makes me feel as if my co-worker was either also a figment of my imagination or she’s just never existed in the first place.
But that seems improbable because we needed two hands to get into the vault by ourselves.
Unless I was never in the vault in the first place.
Then where the hell was I?
I hope I’m actually laying in my bed right now.
It all sounds irrational, but it doesn’t feel that way.