Lamp

I've given myself a break from over analyzing everything, so for now I'm taking a break from my normal writing and posting some pictures instead. I designed a lamp this spring. I'm not so happy with the overall look of it, but the light just makes me happy :) It looks great in the dark!

Still, it's just a prototype, so I have to admit I'm dreading the day I have to change the lightbulbs. There's going to be wire clipping, soldering and glue guns involved... 

I got a little artsy with the product description:

"ANIVA is inspired by lighthouses. It has three bulbs, switches and color filters, regulating the colors and the amount of light. These are factors that are known to affect our health and wellbeing.
ANIVA represent a symbol of dangers at sea, but also a safe harbor, it is dedicated to all the lonely lights abandoned in the most remote places on earth."

Down time

This blog has been more or less dead for a few months now due to this big mess in my head that renders me more or less incapable or writing much more then a few lines, and certainly not anything I feel like publishing. For the time being, the world will just have to continue turning without my ..... (I ment to make a joke here, but the my brain stopped working again...)

I'll try to post some pictures or something instead from time to time so I don't lose all my readers.

I like this song, it's nice:

Confusion

I seem to have an incurable love for all things confusing. I was looking for something I wrote a few years ago when I came across the strange little thing that follows. I didn't spell check it, but I don't think it's too bad :P I'm sorry if I'm weirding you out people.

________________________________________________________________________________

As the boy tracked across the graveyard, a pair of eyes traced him. He cringed, as though he could feel if... or maybe it was just the icy wind tracing his skin and steeling away with his warmth. The thought of the wind calmed the curious creature in it's cramped, claustrophobic position, out of sight, out of mind and out of bounds.
«Get a move on!» it thought.

It considered crawling back through the wall and climb back up the trapdoor in the floor. But it was pitch black inside the old church by now and superstition seemed an incurable decease to the being in question, so it waited, though not very patiently, to be alone with its exit point.

As it waited there in the dark, it's restless mind tracked back up the stairs inside, back into the tower and in just under the roof, over the ceiling. Lost in the delightful memory, just for a moment it was somewhere else entirely. It giggled, out loud.
Shit!
The boy outside stopped dead. Only his head moved, strangely disconnected from the stillness of his body, looking for the source of the sound. Then, inevitably, he hurried off. Inside the wall, sometimes curious creatures cant help themselves. When the boy looked back he saw the demonic creature of his imaginings coming out of the foundation wall. Now, he ran, panicked. Behind him, exiting the underground, relived and unsettled all at once, was a creature that had only meant to sneak a peak and wasn’t demonic in the least.

Hissing sounds and strange smells

We are out exploring again. Walking down the street. Stepping over the trample fence. Not looking around to see if anyone's watching, cause that makes you look like a criminal. Climbing through the open window, entering lawless zone it seems. Now I can allow myself a look around, because climbing thrugh windows always make you look like a criminal... I seek this stuff out, but I almost always sort of regret it even as I'm still doing it. This is a mellow place though. I stand around alone inside, waiting for Ramona to enter, and I'm not the least bit worried.

Last time we were here it was hot out, and the people in the gardens all around took a break out of their coffee drinking and gossiping to watch our every move. Apparently we were the most interesting thing for miles, and keeping track of who's watching, while pretending not to care who's watching is even harder than it sounds. We had a look around the outside and left it at that.

This time we knew where the open windows were, so now we don't have to walk all the way around this abandoned nursing home and draw everyones attention. A quick look around most of the first floor shows that this place is mostly emptied, and a lot of what remains has been destroyed with undeniable intent. Shattered pieces of porcelain that were once toilets is to be found all around.

One thing we do find is a few intact examples of is some of those famously freakish bathtubs that I've wanted to see for myself. They're wholly benign pieces of interior of course, but they seem to be flooded by some kind of dark fantasy world. I have to admit they give me a sort of feeling of patients being cared for in a rather rationalized manor, according to standardized rutines and a precisely calculated schedule, but they have a much darker reputation than that around the dark corners of the web. When people come across these in abandoned asylums they tend to be a little more high on their own adrenalin then what is strictly advisable. This triggers the imagination like you wouldnt believe, and in the meeting between spiked up imagination and technical looking bathtub the electrification bathtub is born. Anyone who cares to read up even a little bit knows that the history of psychiatry is home to many sad stories, inhumane treatments and even cruelty. But this is just a bathtub... seriously. No one were fried in here.

As we find the stairs, I feel a little more uneasy. It's pitch black in here. The door is of the kind that closes itself, as though it has a will of it's own. I have to check to make sure it doesnt also lock while it's at it. I know it would be stupid to have that sort of door in this sort of place, but I have to...

"What the fuck is that smell?!"
We notice it almost immediately after entering. That funny, chemical, out of place smell. I get the feeling it's coming from the basement.
"Kind of smells like diesel I think... maybe there's a generator down there."
I look down the stairs, though I don't see much besides darkness.

Upstairs it's much the same as downstairs. More of those bathtubs, more smashed toilets and more emptied fire-extinguishers. More and more doors and empty rooms, but then there's something and I stop.
"Hello?"
I haven't heard anything, or seen anything move. There's an outline against the bright light of the outside world. The matrass is one thing, but on top of it is a sleepingbag piled up in such a way that it looks strikingly like whoever it belongs to just got up and stepped into the next room a moment ago. No reply though, no sounds. Ramona is looking at me funny, probably wondering who I'm talking to or if it has really gone so far that I'm trying to talk to still shadows and dead buildings.
"I think someone lives here..."
Ramona pops her head around the corner.
"Could be months and months since they left... I bet they only stay here in the winter"
She goes inside to have a look.
"Hey, maybe we should move on. If somebody lives her... it's kind of rude..."
We move on.

There's two more occupied rooms down the same hallway. At least this indicates that they're somewhat sociable and friendly and not mass murderers...
"Cause they 'live together'? Come on, they hardly live together..."
"They do kind of! There's a whole big building and they just happen to live in the same corridor? I can see all of their doors from here."
Ramona's not buying my theory, but I'm sticking with it.

Eventually we make it up into the attic. This is a cramped, dark place. If there's anyone here it would be nearly impossible to know. The shadows in here are so deep they'll swallow you up and maybe even dissolve you entirely.

A ladder and an open hatch is a welcome distraction. It lead straight out into the sun and onto the flat roof of the new section of the building. I climb out, keeping my head down. I haven't forgotten the neighbours eyeing us from across the street. Ramona decides to go for a walk. A walk... I can already feel hands reaching for phones around the neighbouring streets. Grumpy onlookers will never find a more opportune moment as long as their dealing with such harmless troublemakers as us.
"Well... have fun." I sit down, leaning on the adjacent old part of the roof. I can see the entire roof from here, and staying behind only cost me a few anxious sideways glances back at the open hatch. No peaks inside though, I know there's nothing for me to find in there but my own paranoia.

Once Ramona returns, and I am pleased to observe that I have not been abducted by any monsters, we head back down into the attic. We find another room where someone has also clearly spent noticable amounts of time. A pipe or something is hanging from a rope. I follow the rope up, up and then horizontally across the supporting beams under the ceiling. There's also a misplaces door up above, across those beams. A great camping spot, Ramona notes. I look back at the pipe or whatever it is.
"Kind of reminds me... you know how sometimes people make booby traps in abandoned buildings?"
"Well, it's not working very well, is it?"
"I'm not saying that it is. And just because you can't tell how it's supposed to work, don't mean it doesn't."
Imagination is such a waste of space sometimes. I wish I would have turned my brain of and left it in a jar back home.

We walk back down through the old building, entering a part of the first floor that we had not yet seen. A few times I think I hear noises that are not made by us, but it might be just the building itself. Buildings make noises sometimes. Especially old ones that are not used to anyone walking their coridors or opening their doors.

There's more empty rooms and soon we're back by the doors that turned us back earlier. This part of the building seems to have been closed longer then the rest. The knob has been removed from the door, but it is mostly glas, and whoever broke it took care to removed enough of it from the frame to make a reasonably big hole. The walls and the ceiling on this side are engulfed in something that looks a bit like mould but is undoubtedly syntethic. Over by the doors it changes from white to a dark, muddy green though. We have a look around and find out that it's some sort of spray-on insulation. According to the info on the wrapping it was applied in the spring of 2012 at the earliest. We're thinking this place has been out of business since 2004 or 2005.

Eventually I'm reluctantly following Ramona down into the basement. This is when she does something strange. Suddenly she's whispering...

"Shhhhh... do you hear that sound?"
"What sound?"

There's that funny, unnatural smell again. Abandoned buildings have their smells, a wide assortment of smells, but they usually revolve around the same themes, mould, mildew, rot, and other organic causes. This is not one of them.

"There's a hissing sound, like a gas leak.... or maybe a spray can. Maybe there's someone here."
"No way. If we can hear them, they have to have heard us! Let's go back up."

We head back up. Ramona stops at the top of the stairs.
"I think there's someone down there... the sound just stopped. I could hear it up until now."
"Let's get out of here."

The straightest way to where we entered is closed. Being relatively long and flexible, I step through the broken glass easily, but Ramona doesnt like climbing or crawling or anything like that. She's going back upstairs the way we came.

"Fine!" I hop back to her side and walk resolutely towards the stairs.
"Did you hear that?!" I look back at her, but Ramona doesnt hear anything while walking apparently.
"What?"
"That sound... I think there's someone down there"

Upstairs I think I hear it once more and I can't really imagine what the fuck they're doing down there that I'm hearing two floors up if they know they're not alone. I always knew we might run into other people in here, but for some reason this is really starting to worry me, and it's really starting to ennoy me that I have to stop and wait for Ramona all the time. She doesnt seem worried in the slightest.

As we reach the stairs I can't help but thinking that this was the first place we smelled that funny smell, that this staircase go all the way down to the basement and that if someone went through the basement they would easily beat us back here. But it wouldn't help to worry about such things at that point and I remind myself that I have no real reason to be this worried. I turn on my flashlight to disrupt the stagnant darkness inside as I open the door.

We climb out a window, and back outside I'm immediately calm again, like we've passed through a magic portal and are back in the real world. The sun is shining and the street is just a few meters away with its cars and bikes and real, live people that I don't have to be afraid of. It might be that calm that is the reason I do this. That lovely feeling of returning to the real world after entering a different sort of place where you may expect different things from your surrounding and where you'd rather see and hear people before they see or hear you. A quiet, empty building, might suddenly feel more like a dark, magical maze if you smell trouble. This is where people come to break stuff, to do graffiti, to steal, to vandalize, to get high, and some unfortunate souls come to sleep. Unfailingly, someone brings a chainsaw to try and do some real damage. This happened here too, and I'd rather not run into one of those. That building might still be just a meter or so away, but that strange world and the dark basement with it's funny sounds and smells seemed miles away, and I was already making jokes about it.

"If it really was a gas leak, I wonder what kind of gas it might be.... wouldn't it be funny if in a few days from now we would read in the papers that someone had blown this place up, and all the neighbours had seen us come and go?!"
We both laugh.

I just can't quite stop wondering though. It's kind of a weakness with me.
"Do you really think there were people down there? And what do you recon they would need gas for in a place like that?"
After all, as my brother pointed out, this isnt like the US or something where they might cook with gas. What we do with gas here in Norway is mostly extract it, refine it and export it. I really can't think of a single purpose for it in a place like this. Ramona doesnt know. Neither does she care to know.
"People, or something else. But it definetly sounded like some kind of gas or fluid released under pressure."
We initially thought it could be garffiti artists, but in retrospect we both doubt it. We had not been particularly quiet, so it seemed unlikely that we would have gone unnoticed. Also, according to Ramona, the sound seemed too stable, like something fixed.

Lier Psychiatric Hospital, Dikemark and more Lier (Part 2)

Dikemark

This other place is as famous as Lier probably, only it seems like very few people have actually been there and seen it. The stories mostly revolve around this vast collection of buildings no one can seem to navigate, and the security.

“If you haven't seen Dikemark yet, your not going to!” someone wrote somewhere online.

Security was too tight apparently, and I was more then happy to take their word for it. But after finding similar stories about Lier to be mostly BS, we decided to have a look anyway.

We spent a cold winter day walking around and filling our little map with crosses and circles. We probably ended up looking mighty suspicious but we found nothing. Nothing conclusive at least. We saw lots of cool buildings but they all seemed to be in use one way or the other. Even if they weren't in use they appeared to be under surveillance. They were all in equally bad shape, but non of them visibly falling apart, and we didnt really want to step on anybodies toes, so we stayed well clear of most of them. As we're casually strolling past a building that looks rather like a prison (obviosly where they keep the criminally insane) we run into a woman who is eyeing us suspisiously. I smile at her and strike up a random conversation with my partner in crime. Ramona's catching my drift. The stranger doesnt say anything as she passes us. I'm getting rather good at acting like I feel at home in the strangest places I reckon.

Turns out we had stopped just short of the good stuff though. Weeks later we're probably looking rather suspicious again, walking up to a long since abandoned building right in between an apartment complex and the still active high security ward at Dikemark. Who ever closed this building clearly weren't kidding. I've heard this was done as some sort of exercice for the military or something. All the doors and windows within reach is thoroughly secured, but I still can't figure out if that little, red sign by the door is for real.

“Do you think we're on CCTV right now?”

“Don't know... I can't see any cameras.”

“Me neither...maybe they're inside.”

Doesnt really matter though. We'll be out of here soon and you just try tracking down two random people with nothing but a grainy depiction of their faces to go on. No one is going to bother. Still, are there really sensor triggered cameras in there? Why would anyone want to pay to have this place monitored? Pretty much every single window is broken and on the top floor two pipes are sticking out of the widows at each end of the building, the conductors of a continuous flow of water. It looks more or less like the least effective draining system imaginable. If all that water is what's coming out despite that, we can only imagine how much water is still inside.

Word on the web is that someone entered this building and were driven to madness by whatever they encountered. That's an urban legend that seems to go with every abandoned building worth it's salt. Not very inventive, but then again, they rarely are. Also, I'm pretty sure they just transferred it from another building around here that was allegedly burned down by the grieving boyfriend of the victim... 

“By the way, while we're here, do you wanna make a short stop at Lier?”

“... why? What are we going to check out this time?”

“Emmmm... we didnt finish up building B. Maybe we could check out the third floor.”

“If we go to Lier, I wanna see the basement... and the attic.”
We investigated all 5 floors of building E, no problem. But I don't intend to set foot in the basement or attic building B. Not that I seriously think something will happen, just that I know it will impact my sleeping for at least a few days.

“No way. No basement and no attic in building B. But what about building A? Don't you want to see what they're doing with it now?”

“Fine. We'll go to Lier.”

Lier

“Wow... it's just very gone isnt it? Is this really where it used to be?”

Now there's just empty space. And a snowman.

“Funny how all those rooms just doesnt exist anymore.”

“And the basement we never got to see...” Ramona seems to feel a little cheated.

“Don't be so sure. I bet it's down there somewhere. This isnt quite ground level.”

Ramona scrapes away some of the snow with her foot, revealing that we are in fact standing on the shattered pieces of the old brick building.
"Better start digging then."

By building E and B there's tire tracks in the snow all the way up.

“Must be security since this road is closed.”

“The tracks looks too heavy duty.”

“A tractor then?”

“Not quite.”

“Some sort of pick up truck or something maybe?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

 I stop for a moment to take a few pictures.

“Do you hear that funny grinding noise? It's my lens... the focus is malfunctioning. Never done that before."

I look up at the big, mint green building straight ahead. Building B. There's something epic about these big, old, abandoned buildings that I just can't seem to get over.

“So you finally got your supernatural experience?!” Ramona is being funny.

A few minutes later we're entering the restricted area around building B once again. It appears from the outside like B has been closed off once again. Who ever did it didnt bother with building E, and I'm really wondering why that is. We have to check if our eyes are deceiving us. The tire tracks go all the way up here, and there are plenty footprints. I'm trying to remember when the last snowfall was. Probably just a few days ago. Where we are now is probably the most risky place to be in a sense. We are well past the point where we can claim to be innocently going for a walk or something, in that we can hardly have missed the 2 meter high fence we have just come through, even if we didn't have to climb it or break it in any way. At the same time we are still not inside and hidden from security guards and other disapproving onlookers. We are out in the open, just waiting to get caught.

“I guess if we hear something, we'll just run.”

“Are you sure running out of here is the best approch to the problem? It will just make us look like a pair of criminals.”

“Maybe just hide behind a corner then...”

Even though a little mischief is always making me smile, this strange, bad feeling start creeping up on me again.

“Can you believe we've entered this place willingly?”

I feel like that now because we are not going in. I'm just not in the right mode so to speak. Ramona can believe it, I'm sure. But it is indeed closed now, though there are still a few open windows and someone clearly entered through a basement window in the last few days. As I stop to take an illustrative picture of that window and how very “difficult” it is to enter Lier, my lens start making that odd noise again while the focus just runs back and forth like crazy.

“I have had lenses malfunctioning before, but I've never heard that sound befor. And look at this now... the memoricard is full and the battery is empty...”
As much as I like to be spooked, this is kind of what happens when you don't clean up your memorycard, and don't charge your battery, and don't bring the spare card and battery. I'm well over expecting ghostly figures to appear in these pix. In all my hundreds of pix and movies from Lier there really only is one pic that I don't have an explanation for. An even if I don't have it, it doesnt mean that there is no explenation.

So we leave. On our way back down we run into some people on the corner of the E building. Two guys and two girls.

“Those people we met, I bet those guys were trying to impress their girlfriends.”

“Or they were hoping to make them their girlfriends by impressing them.”

“Didnt look as cool anymore when they ran into us though, did it? Maybe we messed up their game.”

“Haha! Too bad!”

Dikemark

This time, we weren't actually going there. We were going to Nedre Eiker, or maybe even as far as Skien. I'm just noticing the exit at the E18 highway: Asker, Dikemark, Borgen. The car makes a funny little jolt, like it sometimes does, and I automatically let go of the gas and scan the dashboard. The warning light for the breaks is on. Something wrong with the break? But then I notice the other one: oil. I need to stop the car as soon as possible, I know what happens to an engine with no oil. But then I notice the third one and realize the cause of all this. The rev meter is down to zero. The engine has simply stopped. It's not out of diesel. It's not overheated. I try the ignition a few more times and I get the feeling it's simply not getting any fuel. The guy from NAF (the Norwegian Car Owner's Assosiation..?) seems to be getting the same idea, so I've got this tiny little hope that that quarter of a tank might be a slight misreading so that this might be solved quickly and cheaply.

We're at Oslo Central Station houres and houres later when it hits me:

“Damn! I really, really miss that stupid car! Already! I started to wonder where it was parked, but then I realized it's not there at all. I miss it like it was a person or something...” 

Turns out, a week later, that I was onto something with the fuel. There is something called a camshaft, which controlls the valves and hence the coming and going of air in the engine. On the camshaft there is this tiny little sensor (at least I imagine it's tiny) that controlls the fuel injection. This little thingy had stopped working and was causing all the trouble. No sensor, no fuel, simply put.

Lier Psychiatric Hospital, Dikemark and more Lier (Part 1)

Apparently, Open Office Writer has given up on spellchecking all together... just so you're warned.

This is now long overdue, but as I did mention before: we did go back to the abandoned hospital in Lier. Come to think of it... I probably mentioned this in Norwegian. But since the world don't revolve around this blog, a recap is probably due anyway.

When we went to vitness the demolition of the first building we visited at Lier (building A), we also had a look at building E. This was rumoured to be the «worst» of them all. How ever you might be inclined to interpret that piece of information, we had come to the conclusion that B was clearly better secured and must therefore be the one to stay away from.

Building E was a good choice. It felt fairly safe, so we ended up investigating all 5 floors, even the basement. All high on this little success, I sugested that we should have a look at the B. E was so easy, this must be a good day.

«But how do you know such things» my mum asks me a few months later.

«I don't. I don't know anything. Sometimes I just get the worst feeling about something. Like you know this is a bad place to be, except you don't.»

This feeling is just like being affraid of something very specific, only you can't really attribut it to anything specific. I'm not saying that makes it supernatural. Feelings is the way our subconsious mind communicates with our consious mind. We pic up such wast amounts of informations, there is no way for us to prosess it consiously. This could be perfectly natural.

E made me reasonably tense, as you should always be in such places, but B was for Bad, apparently. I was filming this whole thing, and it still makes me cringe just to think of watching it. As we came up to one of the first doors, you can see me stop and almost start to reverse away from it. I felt like I've seen something really disturbing, but then decided I hadn't, and then entered. By the time we had covered the northern corridor on the first floor I wanted to run away so bad. But running always makes it worse. So we covered the souther corridor too before walking away slowly. I was never, ever going back there. That much was clear. But such convictions are all too fleeting. What's the worst thing that can happen, right?

So we went back, like we always do.

There's also a film from the second trip. This one I've gotten used to. It's on YouTube even. I've been told I seem so calm. So, so calm.

Don't be fooled though. It wasn't too bad I guess.

The first stairs we ventured up were so silent. Cracking stairs seem unreliable, but the floors and stairs that could collaps at any given moment, those are usually too soft for cracking, just like these stairs who stole away even the otherwise destinct sound of footsteps.

The second floor is much like the first. We found spray paint and a metal pipe in one room.

«Look! A murderwepon!»

I did after all play Cluedo as a kid. Besides, I remember reading somewhere that you wanna stay clear of graffiti artists in places like this, as they're often on edge and armed. From what I'm hearing it's also not uncommon to be high as a scyscraper when coming here.

«Sort of looks like a piece cut off from the fence outside, doesnt it?» I add curiously.

«So someone cut off a piece of the fence for a make shift wepon, when whatever they used to cut it off was probably at least as good?»

«Good point. Imagine the cutter you would need for that job!»

On a windowsill out in the hallway, there's more cans and a gas mask.

«Someone ran away screaming» I assure Ramona.

Or the cans are empty and the mask is broken. Who knows.

I start noticing after a while that my breath fogs in some rooms. Only in a few rooms here and there, and it's just not that cold. This is a bit weird.

In one such room, something is dripping from the ceiling.

«What's that?... rust... no, I mean blood»

It's a little kitchen, directly above the one from the first visit. It's orange, the stuff that's dripping. Rust and water I'm guessing.

«Cause blood is orange right?» I continue, a little worried that Ramona might think I'm being hysterical for real. This is when I notice that my breath is fogging.

«Rotten blood is.»

«What?»

«Rotten blood is orange. Have you never seen rotten blood?»

Ramona sounds genuinely surprised.

«Can't say I have...»

«Well, it also smelled so bad it almost knocked me out, so...»

«Good to know.»

A while later we're just casually crossing a room when there's a sound. Waves of sound.

«Was that you?» I ask.

«Yeah, probably was.»

I'm not convinced, but definetly willing to leave it alone for a while.

Monthes and monthes later, we're in a car, on a highway. This is when I remember it.

«That sound that time at Lier. I'm almost certain it wasnt you.»

The GoPro caught it on tape, and you can hear that it's a bigger sound from somewhere else in the building.

“We may not have been alone in there. I thought we would have known though.”

“Not nesesserily.”
“Well, I guess they could have noticed us first. Maybe it was just one person, so they would have had an advantage as far as sound goes.”

“Or maybe they saw us enter and had fun following us around.”

I considerd that for a moment, deciding how creepy it would be.

“If it was me in that situation I would have gotten the fuck out of there as quick as possible.”

But I would never be in that particular situation in the first place. I don't do this stupid shit on my own. Well, not this specific kind of stupid shit anyway.

I guess we weren't too difficult to keep track of, with Ramona uninpressed by the risks at hand combined with my willful ignorance of anything that might scare me too much. Also, stealth is not always a good thing in these places as it might be better if people can hear you coming. That way they might get the chance to reflect on their options before hitting you in the head with a blunt metal object, rather then after.

But then again, it was just a sound. Waves of sound. Could have been anything. Come to think of it (and I actually only came to think of this while typing) didnt we run into two guys outside a while earlier?

This text got to long so I've cut it in half right around here

Julebrusmysteriet (basert på et sant historie)

(Mest av alt et påskudd til å øve meg på å tegne i Photoshop, and 90% oppdikta.)

Det var en mørk og stormfull kveld (eller var det morgon? huska ikkje...) i et gammalt forlatt mentalsj... nei kva er det eg seie? Det her var jo på hybelen min. I allefall holdt eg på å lage middag, eller kvelds, eller frokost. Huska som sakt ikkje kva tid på døgnet det var, men i allefall mista eg noko på golvet som eg måtte plukke opp. På kjøkkenet som for tida er mitt eine og aleine har eg et altfor stort kjøkkenbord! Men det er egentlig bare stort i den forstand at det er for stort for det lisje kjøkkenet.Ved dette bordet står det to stola kor av den eine stakkaren er skvist mellom veggen og bordet. Når eg altså bøyde meg ned skulle det vise seg at det låg noko på denne stolen. Nemlig ei julebrus! Meir interessant: ei julebrus som ikkje var mi.

For korleis skulle ei julebrus ha teke seg inn på kjøkenet mitt heilt på eiga hand?Og kva skulle motivet vere? Nokon måtte ha plassert den der! Men kven?

Kunne det ha seg sånn at nokon rett og slett hadde brutt seg inn på kjøkkenet mitt?

Kunne det vere overnaturlige krefter i sving? Sjølve flaska såg jo uforskamma normal ut, men ville den gå i oppløysning viss eg prøvde å ta på den? Var det bare ein luftspegling eller kan overnaturlige vesen frambringe masseproduserte, komersielle produkt av rein viljestyrke? Kunne dei i såfall masseprodusere dei og tjene seg rike??? Spørsmåla var mange.

Dette var kort sakt et bunnlaust mysterium. Her var det nødvendig å rådføre seg med nokon. Fortrinnsvis nokon som viste mykje, eller aller helst alt... Valet falt naturlig nok på den allvitande verdsveven, også kjent som internetten. Det viste seg at det var mange teori der ute i dei tusen haud.

Mange av dei likna på mine teoriar: spøkelser, ånder og til og med julenissen. Personlig tenker eg nok at det er litt i overkant overtruisk å antyde at julenissen skulle ha bomma på jula med over ein månad så den forklaringa har eg valt å sjå bort ifrå. Derimot var det ein anna teori som skilte seg ut.... det er jo slettes ikkje bare eg som har nøkkel til hybelen min sjølv om det bare er eg som bur her! Kunne det vere at nokon leika med meg? At nokon rett og slett hadde det hysterisk morsomt på mi bekostning? Men kva skulle vere meninga  med denne julebrusa? Julebrus er jo ei vare, ei sesongbetont vare. Ei raud sesongbetont vare. Den kan ellers betegnast som søt og fristande og liknar forøvrig svært på raudbrus eller Eventyrbrus. Når ein først er inne på "eventyr" så får en fort assosiasjona til andre søte, fristande, raude, sesongbetonte varer, som det raude, forgifta eplet i Snøhvit. Det her var ein såpassa enkel og nærliggande konklusjon at eg blei en aldri så liten smule bekymra. Korleis kunne eg ha unngått å sjå slik openbar symbolikk mens eg grådig konsumerte halve flaska? 

Eg syns med et eg merka et hint av en stikkande undertone til den ellers umiskjennelige lukta som kom fra den opne flaska. Og var ikkje det noko unaturlig, nesten radioaktivt over den raude fargen? Eg mena... meir enn vanlig liksom? 

Antagelig likna ikkje det her det aller minste på korleis eg såg ut, sidan eg rett og slett ikkje ser sånn ut, men ærlig talt... litt fantasi forventa eg at dei fleste innehar! I allefall såg den omtalte flaska omtrentlig slik ut. Viss teorien min stemte hadde eg nok kun kort tid igjen å leve.

Brusa var jo også utvilsomt å betegne som forbudt fruk uansett. Det var jo tross alt bare November. Og når vi er inne på forbudt frukt kan en jo trekke assosiasjonane vidare til andre eventyr. Kom den kanskje direkte frå kunnskapens bryggeri, overlevert av en slu slange? Hadde eg dømt meg sjøl til evig fortapelse og kunne forvente å bli forflytta til helvete omgåande? Ikkje bare skulle eg stige av frå livets selsomme damplokomotiv, men endestasjonen var nok allerede bestemt.