“Sleep Walk” by Lem Billings

Sleep Walk plays.

(Adult content below)

You’re in an old building. A high school. And there’s this one door. It’s red. And above the door is an exit sign.

The stairs are from the 1950’s.

You walk down the stairs and smell dirt.

Why?

Because it’s untouched. And over the last 70 years…it’s rarely been used. The school was reorganized in the 1960’s. And that door stopped being opened. Almost ever. It used to be used before then by kids or teachers going outside for a smoke. Or in emergencies.

It’s a heavy old door.

You stand in front of it and stare.

Why?

Because you have no interest in opening it.

Return to Sender by Elvis Presley plays.

Two ghost kids suddenly appear in front of you. My kids. My son and daughter. They stare up at you. They don’t seem very ghostly.

“Why are you here?” my daughter asks.

“Yeah.

We’re waiting for our parents.

But why are you…here?” my son snarls at you.

“Well!

I collect perfume!” says Monika. She laughs.

“Oh! Yeah. My mom used to do that.” my son says.

Awkward silence.

“Well…we’re going soon.

And then we’ll be gone.” says my son. “And then you’ll just be here alone.”

“Yeah. We have to go home.” says my daughter.

“We have homes too!” says Monika.

“Then go there!” says my son.

“Yeah. But not now. …We’re talking to you now.” says my daughter, laughing sweetly.

I open the door from the outside. It was secretly left unlocked?

With my buzz cut and suit I pick up my daughter and carry her and then my son turns and walks out as I hold open the door.

“Welp! That’s my dad.

So we’re going now!!” says my son loudly.

The door shuts.

“WE’RE GOING NOW!!” shouts my son from outside the school through the door.

“Yes. We know that. BYE!” yells a Millennial guy, standing on the stairs. He laughs in patronizing exasperated at my son. He smiles too though.

I’m a ghost. But my kids get in the car where their mother, Lacey, is waiting. I turn on the car and we drive off. You hear the car driving on gravel through the door. You hear our car. You smell the gas. Just like Lacey smelled my cigarette smoke this morning at 4 AM while I laid in bed next to her, as per usual.

I don’t get high. I don’t drink. But I still smell of cigarettes. Different than what you smell today. And honestly…it’s a comforting smell to Lacey. It smells like me. Maybe tobacco is allowed if it’s not deadly and fallen and you don’t get high.

Anyway…we’re gone. But the door remains.

Wake Up Little Susie by The Everly Brothers plays.

“I drink coffee to stay awake. Even at night.” says a ghost teacher who died of cancer in the 1970’s. He laughs. Walks down the stairs. “CHARGE!” he says as he kicks open the door. He walks out jauntily and then the door shuts behind him.

“Why are we all standing here?” asks Monika.

A group of 20 perfume collectors and other people all look at each other or pause in their thoughts secretly to wonder.

And at that Joe Biden’s first wife and daughter walk past wearing 1970’s clothing. Very casually. As if it’s as blasé as washing the laundry. Joe Biden’s daughter looks at you all like you’re all crazy. Apparently she, like my son, finds it weird how you’re all just standing there.

Warning (2007 Remaster) by The Notorious B. I. G. plays.

Dead Black students rush around. The school bell rings.

One little girl looks you all over.

It’s suddenly the 1990’s.

The song plays.

The end starts.

She takes a deep breath and then says, “You better be sure. You better be sure.”

Then she walks through a wall and disappears.

Nothin’ by N. O. R. E. plays.

It’s 2024.

“Why are we standing here?” asks one you.

“We’re waiting. For…what we’re all waiting for.” says Monika.

“I mean…we could open the door. It looks like a lovely night!” says Jan Hertel.

“Yeah!” says a male perfume collector.

“Let’s just open the door!” says a female perfume collector. She attempts to figure out how to open the door. Jan has it open.

Gimme Shelter by The Rolling Stones plays. You can hear it everywhere.

And suddenly Jan and the woman are standing back where they had been. And the door is shut.

“What the fuck just happened!?” murmurs Jan, confused.

“You shut the door!!” yells Monika, amused.

“Dude. It’s like we flew clear across the room!” says the other female perfume collector.

“I had cancer. In junior high. I’m cool. Watch!” says a classmate of Lacey’s. She opens the door and walks out. The door shuts behind her.

“Yah!! No problem.” says Jan.

Hey Jude by The Beatles plays.

Matthew Nesheim lip synchs the song as he walks right through the door, laughing.

“Why are you all here?” asks his sister Bethany in the 2000’s. She’s concerned.

“Perfume!” says Jan.

Bethany nods. Then disappears. When is unclear.

“I’m leaving!” says Carlos.

Several people try to help him open the door.

“It’s getting creepy!” jokes Carlos.

“Yeah. It is.” says Monika.

“I just need to get out of this place!” says Carlos. He opens the door. “Anyone wanna join me?”

“No.” says a female perfume collector, casually.

“Hold on! Isn’t Carlos dead?” asks a male perfume collector.

“Yeah! That’s right! He died a couple of years ago.” says another perfume collector.

“But he wasn’t dead!” says another perfume collector, who suddenly feels like she’s losing her mind. She sits down on the ground and leans back against the painted cement wall.

“I have cancer.” says Princess Kate, appearing before all of them.

“Why are you here?” asks yet another perfume collector.

“It’s like a speakeasy.” says Tom Banks, walking through a wall behind them all to explain.

Monika looks at him, puzzled.

“He’s dead.” says Princess Kate, to explain politely.

“Why are we here!?!” asks yet another perfume collector.

Succession (Main Title Theme) by Nicholas Britell plays.

Casi Brooke Hart walks down the stairs and blows on her fingernails. Flicks back her hair. Gives everyone a menacing glare.

“I got sick of her. So I killed her.” brags Casi.

“Metaphorically.” says Dr. Moritz.

“Whatever. Yeah.” says Casi.

It’s Done by Nicholas Britell plays.

“How long are you all going to wait here?” asks C. S. Lewis.

“You’re some stuffy English dude!” says Casi.

“Open the door and leave. Or go back where you came from.” says C. S. Lewis.

“We can’t! We can’t go back!” says Alisha.

“Why?” asks C. S. Lewis.

“Look. It’s not a problem.

We can just walk out!” says Casi, offended.

And so at that Casi goes to open the door.

Half Life by Sneaker Pimps plays.

She pushes.

She kicks the door.

She pushes the handle again.

“Just OPEN IT!” shouts Carlos opening it from outside. The door slams shut.

Casi rolls her eyes and pushes again. It doesn’t work.

She kicks it.

Carlos opens it again. “It’s not that hard!” he says, sounding annoyed. He opens it and then it slams shut.

“Leave it open!” says Jan.

“Carlos, leave it open!!” yells Casi.

The door remains shut.

Suddenly lots of people start trying to open the door. But to no avail.

“Why can’t we just leave through the front door?” asks Monika.

“Poser!” says a perfume blogger.

She walks quietly to the hallway and awkwardly stands there, tempted to just leave. Because she can. They all can.

Let’s backtrack.

I’m Lem Billings and I was actually secretly heterosexual. Sounds hard to believe? Fine. You’d be surprised. I acted gay. Why? Because I was molested by a man and that’s the way my adolescent brain made sense of it all. Jack Kennedy took advantage of me and I was too naive and ignorant to realize how bad it all was until I was almost dead. And now I’m dead.

Lacey is Karrie. Karrie is only her legal name though. And her father is Tom Banks. But she’s a Nesheim legally according to the US Government and most other groups and governments. Actually she’s a Craft. But that’s almost the same thing in her case.

Lacey Banks. Lacey Banks is the Viking In Pearls. Lacey is my wife, as you’d probably label it. But she’s my wife for eternity. And this is her blog.

She wrote tons of perfume posts years ago. Daily. Analyzing perfumes note by note. But then she was dissuaded by the negativity she felt. And eventually she became so irate she decided to write one really incendiary post about her family’s old money status. Called “Crass Answers For Curious Questions” or something like that. I’ll have to look it up. And it made a lot of perfume collectors furious. It also hurt and insulted others, which was not her intent.

Since then…things have been weird.

Actually though things were already really weird.

You could say things got weird when she may have accidentally found the actual Illuminati in Seattle in 2016. But…I think it was when she died a bit inside. At age 16?

What happened?

She longed for me far too much. It sounds romantic, but it was…also her start of death. Not just a tiny dribble…but flood waters. Up to your ankles.

For all intents and purposes she’s likely to die and not realize it. At first. Because she’s so close to death now. Her spirit has drowned. She took her last gasps of spiritual air right after Queen Elizabeth II died. She is here with me…and with all of you….but she’s only alive to current science. And that’s what she’s going to be until God says otherwise anyway.

Where Is My Mind by Pixies plays.

When Lacey was 16 she saw that red door and heard Jo Stafford playing in her head.

So, fighting the flow of her peers who streamed down the hall towards the front door to go home, Lacey veered off to the left one sunny spring day in late May. Something felt…sad. And she didn’t know what it was. So she took a horrible risk. She felt she had no choice. And maybe she didn’t. She walked carefully down the stairs, opened the door and looked out. “Oh! It’s just an old playground!” said Lacey to herself.

She walked out further and suddenly felt very scared and yet happy at the same time. She looked at the parking lot and saw normal people and cars. She looked back at the school and it all felt different.

She looked back and forth.

She stood there, felt the spring breeze and then felt terrified. Calmed herself.

She realized she’d left her viola inside. Walked back inside.

But just as she neared the door she heard me come on to her in her ear.

She bristled. Stood up straight and froze. And for a split second she literally went in and out of time. She shut her eyes. Braced herself. I kissed her. She smiled. Then she looked sad and stared down at the ground.

“NO! He’s serious!” yells Joe Kennedy Junior from 2024 wandering back in time to watch this moment. Lacey heard him. She furrowed her brow in confusion.

“But you’re all dead.” protested Lacey sweetly.

And just at that an elderly janitor walked next to her and barged in front of her and grabbed the door to let her in after him. He looked grumpy. But sensing her actual rage he softly smiled and apologized to her politely like she was a woman his age.

She waltzed in, in irritation. But she hid it. Because it creeped most people out. But being a janitor he noticed it and it terrified him.

“She must be old somehow.” he thought in muddled English in his head before being distracted by something else.

And that’s when Lacey was sucked out of her body and taken off. But she didn’t notice it. And so I walked home with her. And she could sense me. But she’s never realized it fully. She really hasn’t. Not even now.

She’s 40. Soon she’ll be 50. Then 70. Then dead.

We all die.

But in case you’re curious, you might have been confused by this lady:

Because she’s Lacey Banks. Lacey Banks Billings.

This was her signature fragrance:

Why did you try to steal it? It didn’t suit her perfectly. True! But very little does.

I prefer Youth Dew. And a few others. But…that’s still her perfume. Or was. …Why!??

“Lacey!! Pist!!” yells the dead janitor at 16. He was born in 1918. He died in 2003. At 85. He worked until he was 80. And then died of a heart attack at 85.

6 Underground by Sneaker Pimps plays.

The door flies open at the high school Lacey is visiting with her friends. She glances over.

“Oh! I love that back spot!” says Lacey.

“Really? That door has never been open when I’ve tried to open it.” says her friend.

“Yeah. Come outside with me!” says Lacey, joyfully.

“Hmmm. No.” her friend says, freaked out. And Lacey finds that hurtful but she tries to understand.

“Fine. I’ll be right back.” says Lacey.

“I’m going to just meet you out front. Okay?” her possible friend says somewhat patronizingly.

“Alright!” shouts Lacey.

Lacey is picked up by me. And I carry her playfully. The janitor laughs. Lights up a cigarette and walks off still laughing. This time at 29. He disappears. Lacey senses him and quickly turns to see who’s behind her. Nobody is there.

I hold her. “It’s okay. We’re just dead.” I say.

Can’t Find My Way Home by Sneaker Pimps plays.

“I wish I was dead.” says Lacey. “This is so romantic. Or I wish I was back in time.”

“Let’s go home.” I say to her.

“Yes. Enough of this.” she says.

And at that she quickly races back to the car with her friends. They’re all talking to someone else on their cell phones.

“Well. That was pretty!” says Lacey.

“Was it? Nice.” says one of her possible friends.

Lacey can open the door with our help without even being near it. You cannot. And if you can…you’re delving into evil or you’re insane…or you’re slightly dead too. No. It’s not a “gift.”