3:15 AM

For some goddamn reason I woke up in the middle of the night; no bad dreams or anything, although I have the slight suspicion that it may have been the heavy rain. This weather at some point turns me on; some light seemed to be flooding my bedroom and that kept disturbing my slumber. I got up and walked barefoot from one end of the room to the other like a caged lion. I kept thinking of situations that could have triggered my anxiety and lose sleep; the pressure of deadlines? As if I were a newbie, no; this time of the year when everyone already has plans? No…

I sat down waiting for the rain to stop but I could see that it was gonna take a while. Edith wasn´t around to comfort me; she flew to Michigan to visit her parents for Thanksgiving like she promised, so for a few days I´d to be the man of the house. Plus, it wasn´t the first time this happened; I was completely tolerant on that matter, so why the Hell was I becoming so uneasy?

Ever since my close encounter with Ava, the Tarot lady I grew more curious of these random esoteric subjects. Somewhere along the way I read that 3 AM was labeled as a bewitching hour, which was opposite to 3 PM; the hour in which supposedly Jesus Christ died. Was I being invaded by demons? No clue, all I could think of was work because inspiration should be brief but effective like a potent drug or an orgasm on the other hand.

What I did notice is that Scraps was an all-nighter; he kept jumping up and down like crazy. I took him out for a while and curiously we were both startled at the sound of thunder. Then it progressively went away but it had a rather soothing effect to induce sleep…Oh, what the Hell, I needed a glass of wine. I think I still had some Merlot from 2002, ruby red; one of my favorite colors. I guess that did it, now I was knocked out. There goes that bewitching hour.

Next I grabbed a large sketchbook and began scribbling what was called automatic drawing; sometimes it made sense sometimes it didn´t. I came up with what seemed to look like a funny twiggy man in the middle of the forest. There were three puddles of water in front of him. I looked up and then I noticed the three narrow and large windows in my room. No big deal. The shape seemed fascinating though; childish, naïve, careless but not messy. That´s the way I used to draw when I was like five and scribbled on the walls with a red crayon. I believe I poked my unconscious once again.