Here’s the deal. I have an overactive imagination. I know. You’re all looking at me with mouths hung wide open.
I. Have. An Overactive. Imagination.
I feel better now.
Let me tell you how I came to this conclusion.
This past week my darling husband and the rest of my family were in Las Vegas for the International Century 21 Convention. That left me and the three mini’s here at home. The first two days were peachy. No problems. I even slept with the lights off (I’m terrified of the dark.)
Day three … not so much.
I put the mini-me’s down to bed.
Locked up the house.
Double clicked the remote car alarms.
Took BOTH car alarm remotes upstairs with me in case of an intruder (yeah, I’m a big ‘ole chicken, but not an over imaginer!)
Crawled into bed and turned on the TV.
I flipped around the channels and found a documentary from Chapman University. That’s a school near my home so … legit, right?
Then, I saw the “footage” scene of a hypnosis session with a guy, in a bedroom, that sits straight up in bed screaming. Then levitating off his bed.
I was scared I didn’t know whether to sound the car alarms or hide under my covers!
OH. MY. GOODNESS! What had Chapman University discovered? And why the heck wasn’t this on main stream news? OMG, it’s a government conspiracy. HOLY COW was that an owl “whooing” outside my window!?!
Needless to say, I watched the end of that movie … both car alarm remotes in my hands like I was about to signal the start of the Daytona 500! I watched the closing credits. I watched the soundtrack credits and did not MOVE!
I finally drifted off to sleep, car alarms and cellphone attached to my body.
Then, at three A.M., I heard it.
I heard it in my hallway. I heard it on the stairs … And I heard the door open and get stuck on the mini-me-door-catcher-2000! (that’s a little bolt up at the top of the door that prohibits the 2yo mini-me from running down the street naked.) I hit those car alarms, woke up half the geriatric neighborhood I live in and heard IT run up the stairs and open my door.
The 2 year old mini-me/alien screamed.
And then we cried.
I turned off the alarms and reassured the neighbors I was okay.
Finally, I got the 2 year old some milk, tucked him in bed with me to give the owl warning system an option on which brain to abduct and finally Googled the damn psychiatrist name. Only to find out that Dr. Abigail Tyler was played by an Actress.
I wasn’t quite convinced, but was settled enough to get a few hours’ sleep.
The next morning I nonchalantly contacted my little brother who has a psychology degree from Pepperdine. Casually asked him if he heard of this documentary from Chapman University called THE FOURTH KIND.
My covered been blown. I knew by the belly jarring laughter on the other end.
“Mindy! That’s not a documentary! That’s a docudrama.”
“A who, what?”
“A docudrama. Like The Blair witch project!”
“Oh … --wait for it, my first step-- must have been my over-active-imagination.”
That night, I still slept with the car alarm remotes and all three mini-me’s in my bed. Those aliens were gonna have a smorgasbord of imagination to choose from … they are, of course, my kids.