I... I wanted to do something... I'm not sure what it was. I was sleepwalking again.
It's happened to me twice before in my life, a truly disconcerting state of awareness at the parapet of dual worlds of perception.
The first time it happened, that I recall, I was 16. I had gotten my own room. I cannot say finally as it was with great reservations. The crumbling of the family had made it possible, after years of happily sharing, or perhaps, clinging. Mother and Father had kept separate chambers for over a decade. Mother in the North wing; Father at the South end of the mansion. Until she broke all ties. Then for six years the room remained a shrine to Family Failure. And when it was precariously decided, by lottery, who of us two children would inherit the room, we partitioned again, and I was left alone with Father. A strange privilege, as I was not the prodigal son. I was the other child.
In the darkness of that time, I found myself one night, searching for something in Mother's closet... I had opened my wardrobe and was proceeding to remove the metal drawers. Mother had had only clothes, heaps of clothes. I had some of course, but a myriad of papers and implements, too. The drawers were heavy and awkward.
I came to waking senses... removing these drawers. I reckoned what I was doing... but not the why. It was apparent that it was the very back of the closet I was trying to find... I was trying to find... I returned to bed and pulled the covers up tight.
It was more alarming than frightening.
This loss of self-control.
The second time, I was in my 20's. I had stopped keeping track of Time... I wanted to do something... I'm not sure what it was. I came to waking senses midway down the long hall between Mother's bedroom and the kitchen. I had been walking and now became aware of the sound of the wall clock, the faint gleam of the metallic hands that crawled at minute intervals with the shadows. I felt the breeze of open windows, a scent of passing summer, and heard the relentless treefrogs, like crickets, calling...
Again I returned to bed, drew up the covers and wondered.
Dismayed at my inattention.
This loss of self-control.
The third time, decades later when all even the mansion had crumbled, I came to waking senses in front of my computer in a small, rented bungalow. I had clicked that Google browser... what's it called? I was staring in the screen, seeing my own reflection and the resulting search history. I became aware of this slim shiny chrome colored implement, a CID cal. 45 Böker Plus Tactical Pen, with pearl grip...
I wanted to do something... I'm not sure what it was... I was...
...At the Wrong End of a Chrome .45 with Pearl Grip... challenge @Prose