Stranger Things

Do you ever wake up, only to discover you’re in a strange dream?

The furniture sits where it always has, yet the air smells different, as if I have never been here before. The clothes still fit, but I can’t feel them on my skin.

Dogs are barking, and the neighbor’s car is in the driveway across the street.

Food’s in the fridge, and I don’t remember buying it.

Was it me? Or just the shadow in the mirror?

I go for a walk like I always do, and my feet only touch the air. How strange the weeds look that press up from the concrete.

I read the street signs, but I don’t remember where I am. However, I find my way back to my house because I have done it a thousand times before.

Like a robot. Primal disorientation.

What’s even more strange is that I don’t recognize my people anymore.

We have the usual gatherings, where they speak, and I listen, and I don’t understand their banter.

Invisible.

Words are strung along to fill the space in between one breath and another.

Gibberish.

I know what will come out of their mouth before they speak. It’s eerily predictable. A freak show of human-looking characters.

How come I am still here? Why is this loneliness so loud?The noise is shrill in my bones.

Whispers of not belonging have turned into screams. Humming nothingness.

I’ve never been born, have never died, and yet - here I am, in silence, watching the show, cast as an actor on a stage that I don’t recognize, with well-worn props that once meant life and purpose.

And yet, there are only dust bunnies, grime, and smut.

Past, present, future - everything is happening all at once.

© Ute Luppertz 2025