Saturday, February 09, 2013

Transparency Isn't Always a Good Thing

Is this the face of a medium?
Over the years I've blogged and posted on Facebook off and on about dreams and experiences I've had in my bathroom.  All of the dreams have involved spirits or ghosts or what-not coming to me then disappearing through the walls.  And let's not forget I've gotten some of my best story and character ideas while showering.  There's just something magical about my bathroom, except for the fact that it doesn't magically clean itself.
Well, it's time to chalk up another phenomenon for my inside outhouse.

In the past few months my male cat, Raffi, has taken to disappearing behind the shower curtain. (Think the Wizard of Oz but with more hair.)  I have no idea what he's doing there, nor do I really care. In the summer, when it gets really hot in my apartment, he likes to hop in there and lay on the cool porcelain. But it's currently winter. I'll be working at my computer and I'll hear him nattering away in there. Sometimes he even gives off a guttural howl. My other cat, B, doesn't do it. She used to cool off in the tub until she got too old and stiff to hop over the edge. It's just Raffi.

A few weeks ago I replaced my cream-colored shower liner with a clear one. The curtain itself is shear so now you can see right into the shower when the curtain is pulled closed, which is most of the time. It's pretty cool because now when I shower I can see out, so if Norman Bates sneaks into my apartment I'll be able to see him coming.  But I digress ...

The thing is, with the new clear liner I can now see what the silly animal is doing, and it's kind of disturbing in a creepy sort of way.  Tonight I heard him mewing and chattering away and slipped into the room to watch through the curtain. Raffi was sitting in the middle of the tub transfixed on the fixtures - the spout and the knobs.  I know he wasn't looking for water to drink. He gets a big fresh bowl every morning and has never been a faucet drinker. Nor did he pay me any mind or even acknowledge my presence on the other side.
Raffi staring at the corner,
while B is unimpressed.
No, he was just sitting there, staring at the fixtures as if they were an oracle about to drop pearls of wisdom at his paws.  As if the meaning of feline life could be found in the worn chrome and ugly '70s tile.  While I watched, he chattered something at the wall, then stepped closer and sat again, almost with reverence, as if waiting to be blessed. Frankly, it gave me the willies, which is odd considering I write about ghosts. You'd think I'd be immune to such creepiness.

This isn't the first time Raffi has been obsessed like this.  He used to stare at the corner by my bed all the time and I was once able to snap a photo of it. He's no longer looking in that spot. Now it seems to be just the shower. Maybe whatever entity he's become buds with has moved from the bedroom to the bath. And maybe it's simply as comedian Brett Butler used to say: That child ain't right.

Raffi is next to me now sound asleep. His commune with the spirits of the bath over for tonight. At least I hope so. Meanwhile, I'm looking over my shoulder every few minutes, not sure if I should be afraid or looking for a new story line.

Or maybe I need to go to Target tomorrow and buy a new shower liner. One I can't see through.  If I don't see it, it won't bother me. Right?

1 comment:

city said...

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