Thank you for your patience. I was able to calm my hyperventilation and now write to you my experience from last night. It is morning now, and I am freezing in my unheated apartment. It doesn't seem plausible that a "hallucination" can feel cold. I'm laughing to myself now; you will see why as you read what happened with Dianne. So read.

Dianne was dressed simply; black pants and blouse. She had opened the restaurant's door the instant my foot hit the edge of the sidewalk, and greeted me, "Hey, Jinx. (again, real name)" I returned the greeting and ducked into the building, straightening my jacket as I did. She had set a small round table without a tablecloth, and two plates with food on them. I didn't exactly eat, but I decided to point that out later. I sat down on the less-comfortable-looking chair and offered a smile that wavered with nerves. She took the other smoothly, and initiated the conversation with: "So, who was the annoying one?"

My lips curled. "I wish I knew. But thank you for your intrusion." She snorted a short laugh, and I hastily added, "I  apologize for my phrasing; it might not suit the situation precisely."

She waved it off, smiling pleasantly as she replied, "It's not as if I blame you. Must be difficult living so high up in the building; almost as if you're not even there."

I understood what she was prodding at. I heaved a sigh, and explained, "You shouldn't be able to see me."

She shrugged. "I figured, since the only other person who seems to have that ability is your antagonist." 

I must now skip ahead into a side note of my journal which I made long months after originally writing this, dear readers: Antagonist would have been a fitting word for Hermes if I knew him then as I know him now.

I chuckled before she went on, "But I'm not going to ask you to explain, because you haven't asked me to explain even though you saw my friend leaving the coffee shop that time." I nodded, respecting the standing point, and was about to inform her of the lovely detail that I was unable to consume the cuisine on the table, when she asked me, "I do have to ask you, though, if you're actually...real, is that the word? Are you a hallucination, or an active being which exists?"

(Now that I think on it as I write our conversation, did she say "a hallucination" or "an hallucination?" I seem to be forgetting more and more things. It's troubling.)

I mulled it over, and eventually said, "I'm not sure." 

Dianne lifted a glass of wine to her lips and drank. She set the glass down again, looked at me for a while, then concluded, "You're unsure of quite a few things, aren't you?"

I rose a brow and found myself smirking. "Rhetorical? Yes, of course I'm unsure. Aren't you?"

She sighed heavily. "I'm beginning to entertain the idea that you are a reflection with a twisted sense of humour."

Yes, I believe you don't need the rest of the evening's account. I explained that I do not eat, she ate, we conversed about pointless things like ecliptic obliquity and the theories of human evolution. Why pointless: because we all die in the end anyways. 

I'm not certain exactly what today has in store; Dianne told me she was busy, but that she would visit my apartment if she had nothing to do and something on her mind. I agreed to these terms, and they still seem quite reasonable. In the meantime, I believe I will visit Cody again, and perhaps look into Hermes and Dr. Facilier some more. 

I'll record my findings. 

Hopefully their existence will be more obvious than the matter of my own.

©Nightingale