The sweetest dreams
Oct 26, 2023 1:13:44 GMT -5
Post by OrochiGeese on Oct 26, 2023 1:13:44 GMT -5
Sandy Morton's Diary: June 6th, 2023.
I don't know how she does it. A typical day in the life of Robin Walker is a constant hustle. Awake at 5am, protein smoothie for breakfast, exercise, train for matches, juice cleanse, shower, social media activity, another shower as a result. Then she begins her speaking engagements - typically three in one day, for an hour and a half each. Get home and have a light dinner, work out again, shower, then "relax" by taking online business courses. By the time 11 pm arrives, she's exhausted but fulfilled. I know all this because I'm her personal assistant.
I get an hour to pull myself together then rinse, repeat. Exhausting, but, typical.
...
I say all this because yesterday was anything but typical. She woke up at 9 am in a cold sweat and was exhausted all day. I asked if she wanted to clear her schedule but she didn't. She went through her regular activities but looked sick as a gangrene dog doing it. After her last speaking engagement, she vomited. I've never seen her look paler. I rushed her to the emergency room but they said she just has a stomach bug and needs to rehydrate. At first I thought maybe she picked something up from that Æther show this past weekend. You know how dirty those mats can get. It's like a staph meeting in a plague factory. But the bloodwork they did on her was clear so she was discharged.
(She literally vomited again while signing the discharge papers. Maybe we should look into a new HMO?)
By the time we got home, I was even more worried. It wasn't just her decaying condition, it was how everything felt. It was like there was something else there, almost like right next to her. I can't explain it any better. You know those moments when you feel like there's someone more in the room with you but your brain reassures you there isn't?
Yeah, that.
I helped her get ready and she went to bed at 11 pm. I went to my room and fell asleep by midnight.
A few hours later, I woke up to the living room window being smashed. We are in the penthouse suite on the 14th floor.
(Technically, it's the 13th floor but NYC has some bullshit rule that you can't name it the 13th floor. Or at least, I used to think it was bullshit, but maybe we could use all the superstitious protection we can get.)
It was Robin. She had crashed through the window from outside into the apartment.
The same Robin who couldn't even get herself a glass of water before she fell asleep.
She was muttering something but I couldn't make it out cause I was too focused on what was in front of me: A walking nightmare. Her clothes were in tatters. Her hair was tossed around like a hurricane. And the potent smell of the fluids - I can't even go into further detail without dry heaving.
Remarkably, she seemed uninjured from crashing through the glass but it was little comfort.
Finally, she started to speak in a way I understood. No, she wasn't making sense but I could now hear her. In retrospect, I have no memory of her mouth even moving - but I could hear her.
"Nectar, it's nectar to me. Ambrosia, my dear Sands. This is how it should feel."
"What," I asked, "how what should feel?"
"Life. We were doing it all wrong but I know the way now. All our energy has been wasted on superfluous activities. We must take it from those who are too lazy to resist. They don't deserve it and claiming it is a dream come true."
I pleaded with her - "Miss Walker, Robin, please...you need to go back to bed."
Then it happened - I saw a smile that I will never forget. A twisted smile worse than a thousand scowls.
"Oh but my dear Sands, I have been in bed, so many beds. I am not the one that is tired now."
But then, wouldn't you know it. Right as she posed like a Greek goddess, in a display of strength, her eyes rolled up into her head and she immediately fainted. I did what I could to drag her to bed. She felt heavier than usual but I got her there and cleaned her up. Then I picked up the glass and sent a message to our super to fix the window the next day. At least 3 birds flew in and shat all over the room but that was less of a mess than what Robin looked like.
And the worst was still yet to come. If you're reading this, you've been warned. Everyone.
- Sandy
I don't know how she does it. A typical day in the life of Robin Walker is a constant hustle. Awake at 5am, protein smoothie for breakfast, exercise, train for matches, juice cleanse, shower, social media activity, another shower as a result. Then she begins her speaking engagements - typically three in one day, for an hour and a half each. Get home and have a light dinner, work out again, shower, then "relax" by taking online business courses. By the time 11 pm arrives, she's exhausted but fulfilled. I know all this because I'm her personal assistant.
I get an hour to pull myself together then rinse, repeat. Exhausting, but, typical.
...
I say all this because yesterday was anything but typical. She woke up at 9 am in a cold sweat and was exhausted all day. I asked if she wanted to clear her schedule but she didn't. She went through her regular activities but looked sick as a gangrene dog doing it. After her last speaking engagement, she vomited. I've never seen her look paler. I rushed her to the emergency room but they said she just has a stomach bug and needs to rehydrate. At first I thought maybe she picked something up from that Æther show this past weekend. You know how dirty those mats can get. It's like a staph meeting in a plague factory. But the bloodwork they did on her was clear so she was discharged.
(She literally vomited again while signing the discharge papers. Maybe we should look into a new HMO?)
By the time we got home, I was even more worried. It wasn't just her decaying condition, it was how everything felt. It was like there was something else there, almost like right next to her. I can't explain it any better. You know those moments when you feel like there's someone more in the room with you but your brain reassures you there isn't?
Yeah, that.
I helped her get ready and she went to bed at 11 pm. I went to my room and fell asleep by midnight.
A few hours later, I woke up to the living room window being smashed. We are in the penthouse suite on the 14th floor.
(Technically, it's the 13th floor but NYC has some bullshit rule that you can't name it the 13th floor. Or at least, I used to think it was bullshit, but maybe we could use all the superstitious protection we can get.)
It was Robin. She had crashed through the window from outside into the apartment.
The same Robin who couldn't even get herself a glass of water before she fell asleep.
She was muttering something but I couldn't make it out cause I was too focused on what was in front of me: A walking nightmare. Her clothes were in tatters. Her hair was tossed around like a hurricane. And the potent smell of the fluids - I can't even go into further detail without dry heaving.
Remarkably, she seemed uninjured from crashing through the glass but it was little comfort.
Finally, she started to speak in a way I understood. No, she wasn't making sense but I could now hear her. In retrospect, I have no memory of her mouth even moving - but I could hear her.
"Nectar, it's nectar to me. Ambrosia, my dear Sands. This is how it should feel."
"What," I asked, "how what should feel?"
"Life. We were doing it all wrong but I know the way now. All our energy has been wasted on superfluous activities. We must take it from those who are too lazy to resist. They don't deserve it and claiming it is a dream come true."
I pleaded with her - "Miss Walker, Robin, please...you need to go back to bed."
Then it happened - I saw a smile that I will never forget. A twisted smile worse than a thousand scowls.
"Oh but my dear Sands, I have been in bed, so many beds. I am not the one that is tired now."
But then, wouldn't you know it. Right as she posed like a Greek goddess, in a display of strength, her eyes rolled up into her head and she immediately fainted. I did what I could to drag her to bed. She felt heavier than usual but I got her there and cleaned her up. Then I picked up the glass and sent a message to our super to fix the window the next day. At least 3 birds flew in and shat all over the room but that was less of a mess than what Robin looked like.
And the worst was still yet to come. If you're reading this, you've been warned. Everyone.
- Sandy