Famous Last Words

If You Look in the Mirror and Don't Like What You See

The night I had jumped, fully clothed, into the pool whilst sleepwalking we talked long into the early hours trying desperately to reach some sort of agreement on what had happened and how. Bob's revelation that he had experienced what can only be described as Poltergeist activity had surprised the others, but I saw it only as confirmation of what I already knew. You might think that I would be happy about that and, yes, to an extent, perhaps I was. At least I wasn't going crazy, but it didn't mean that I couldn't be driven crazy by whatever was tormenting me.

None of us got much sleep for the next few days and it wasn't just us that suffered. Musically we were spiralling down and finding it hard to even play our instruments, never mind construct new ideas. Things felt hopeless and the situation grew dire. I even began to look forward to the evenings so that I could try to sleep through our problems. But I knew that they would catch up with us. And it would happen sooner than I thought.

*

I should have been in a deep sleep. You know what I mean. The kind where even a nearby explosion wouldn't cause any more disturbance than to make you roll over. Generally, there's very little that can rouse me from the comfort of a soft bed and a good dream but I've been having too few of those lately. Gerard and I are both world-class at sleeping. If it were an Olympic sport, we'd take gold and silver. If I'm honest, he'd take the gold, but it would be a close run thing. Don't forget though, he's older, so he's had more practice than me.

Here? In this house, it was a very different story. Apart from the night of pool incident, I had slept very lightly, waking at the slightest noise. That night... I was going to say that that night was no different, but it was. Oh, don't get me wrong, I woke up, but it was what happened next. To give you some perspective, I should explain what usually happens.

When I wake, normally apart from a general sense of discomfort, I feel like I'm surrounded by a suffocating darkness. As if it's pressing in on me until I can't move. Some nights, I actually can't and I'm forced to lie there, helpless and terrified until the sensation leaves me. Sometimes I see shadows move or hear whispers that I can't quite make out. I can't close my eyes for fear that something will appear in the room and I won't know. Why would I want to know? If something suddenly arrived, I'd be screaming for help at the top of my lungs! Oh yes, if something approaches, I want to know about it all right! Or... I'll just tell you what happened.

I woke quite suddenly, in a cold sweat with my heart racing. I lay still, my head swimming as my pulse went into overdrive. I couldn't say for certain what actually woke me this time, but I was praying it had just been a bad dream or perhaps it was possible that I'd heard one of the guys walking past my room. Listening intently, I lay so still for a few moments that I actually forgot to breathe, adding to my already overwhelmingly disorientated senses. When I finally realised, I almost gasped as I sucked in the much-needed air. The room wasn't just quiet; it was deathly silent, almost as if it had been soundproofed against all external noise. Even the air seemed thick and cloying, becoming a real effort to breathe. Edging myself into a sitting position still within the bed, I wondered if I should pull back the covers in case I needed to run. I told myself that the idea was foolish and cowardly - I can be really stupid sometimes.

And then I noticed what I really should have spotted immediately – the light. Not the bizarre overly bright glowing blue bulb the room had been fitted with, but a small pinprick of white light in the mirror. The heavy dark blue damask drapes where, as always, drawn fully closed. Not the tiniest spec of light could break through the flecked silk, lined with a stiff, high-quality cotton. The bedroom door was closed with no light coming from the corridor beyond, and yet there was the light. At first, it was difficult to make out much detail in the mirror, such was the darkness of the room. But slowly, my eyes grew accustomed to what little light was available and I realised, somewhat nervously, that from the perspective in the mirror that the distant light was way beyond being a reflection of anything in the room.