I suppose that it's relevant that I'm pretty much blind at night; the rods of my eyes having been weakened by sparkles a couple of years ago.
Were those even real?
Does it even matter?
So, I'm blind at night, especially on nights like tonight when the Moon is nowhere to be seen. I cannot see shapes, only varying degrees of blackness.
I couldn't see the one, two, three somethings that crossed my driveway tonight, as I sat in my swing enjoying a Rogue Chocolate Stout (1576). I couldn't see them, but I could tell that they were there. They glided like ghosts, and one of them, the largest, stopped not more than fifteen feet away from me. Fascinated, perhaps, by the glow of my cigarette as it rose and fell between my lap and my mouth. I flicked the butt onto my driveway, and the shape slid silently away.
And those other things, those shadows that flitted about at the very edge of my peripheral vision? They seemed to be jockeying for position. I imagined them chattering to each other, bargaining for their favorite angles. From which to watch me. To wait for me. To attack and devour me.
But I did not fear them, those unseeable monsters that lurked in the dark. Instead, I welcomed them. It had been a long time since I'd felt their presence. I'd actually missed the pitiful horrible things.
Tonight, they left me alone. Without my fear to fuel their bravery, they eventually retreated back to their origins. Back into my own imagination.
I am perfectly content, right now.
I am, once again and finally, blissfully aware of my place in this world.