Welcome Back Home

home sweet home?

After waving good bye to Joshua, I find a quiet area on the train to take a seat. Checking my phone, I notice it's just hit 9:30. I brace myself for the potential influx of teens with bottles of spirits in hand, on their way out to the bars and nightclubs in the area. Despite only being 21 myself, seeing them all going out on the way to have fun whilst I'm on my way home from work kills a part of soul. Putting in my earphones, I try to drown out the sounds of the incoming conversations as I scroll through my notifications.

A text from my Grandmother appears explaining how she'd been diving with sharks earlier today with a picture attached which showed her at the local aquarium faced to face with some sharks. I scoff to myself wondering how she manages to do so many random things. I react to the image with a wow face and respond with a complimentary message of how amazing it was. I open my social media and begin to scroll through the posts without much thought. There is one post that seems to jump out at me. A photo of a sketchbook which seems to depict a small storefront, a large apple motif on the glass door. Above the door, a sign with the words "Howdy's Place" faintly sketched onto the page. I couldn't help but feel a sinking feeling in my stomach when looking at it. It felt so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. Before I had the chance to view the profile of the person who shared the post, my phone screen showed static for a moment then shut down. I was confused, I thought I'd charged my phone before I left the office. There's no way it could have ran out of battery already? Maybe I dreamt that I put it on charge but actually didn't? Yeah that seems like something I'd do to be fair. I look up noticing the train is only a few stops away from my house, so decide not to think too much into it.

I enter my apartment building to see the lift is still broken - no changes there then. This wouldn't particularly bother me if my apartment was on the 7th floor. The last thing I wanted after such a long day at work followed by the draining commute was to trek up that creepy stairwell. The lights would always flicker and there was the occasional cigarette but every couple of steps. Once I made it inside my apartment I threw my bag and coat onto the floor and immediately flopped down on the couch. The tiredness came crashing over me like a tidal wave, with the idea of just falling asleep right here on the couch becoming more tempting by the second. Eventually, I pull myself off the couch, throwing on my pyjamas and heating up some left over pizza from last night. With the thought of sleep being so close I can't help but be drawn back to the vague images of that yellow puppet. I can't quite understand why he is so vivid in my dreams yet I have no recollection of his origins.

After picking at the few slices of pizza I'd heated up I eventually decide to call it a night. As soon as my head hits the pillow I'm soon drifting off to sleep. As my consciousness slips away I hear the slow melody of what seems to be... beautiful dreamer? Anticipating the artful voice of Roy Orbison, I'm instead met with a crude monotone voice that began to speak the lyrics...