Subtitle: Or how I did and did not meet Schrödinger's Sparrow.

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It was a birthday party! And it was for me! That means prezzies, and I get to eat cake, and ...

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Let me back up. I've spent the last week getting over a head cold. I've had all the typical symptoms you'd expect -- congestion, inability to regulate my body temperature, body aches, and a unlimited supply of mucus. I was generally unaware the body could generate mucus at quite such a prodigious rate; I would have guessed half a cup (100ml) a day would be a lot, but I've been managing liters (go r/HydroHomies ?). I'm doing better today, but when this event happened (yesterday), I had been imitating a geyser for days.

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The sneezing was bad, as it was making me regularly see stars and made my headache worse. The coughing was no fun, making my throat feel irritatingly parched, and each lung-spasm was followed by the pseudo-echo of my spouse yelling a forbidding "NO DEATH" at me from across the apartment. The worst symptom, however, was the post nasal drip.

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It wasn't too bad when I was awake. The creeping feeling of something unpleasant slipping down the back of my throat was tedious and teased my dried throat with some moisture before each drop tried to choke me, leading directly to my next refrain of "hack, hack, hack a lung, listen to me cough". The real stinker was as I was about to fall asleep -- my mind quietly drifting off into the darkness, with Bob Ross's dulcet baritone washing over me, when suddenly, poison dripped down from Skadi's snake while Sigyn had fucked off somewhere and OH MY CRIPES THE BURNING ... and I'm awake again. The drip settles off the back of my throat, the pain vanishing as I cough again. Back to my happy little tre... FUCKING HELL SIGYN.

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Which is to say, I hadn't slept much.

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Eventually, I'd gotten Sigyn to stop wandering off and/or convinced my subconscious that the post nasal drip wasn't an acid trying to remove my tonsils, and had gotten to sleep. In fact, I was in the midst of a dream.

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We had just gotten home in time for the Halloween party. Except, as I was boosted into the high-chair, I realized it wasn't a Halloween party, but an early surprise party! I was turning 1! Well, this had to be an implanted memory, as there is no f'ing way i had this much sense of self at age 1 but let it play out. There's a big white and blue #1 candle on a cake bigger than me! And a kazoo! And a stupid hat! ... It was a birthday party! And it was for me! That means prezzies, and I get to eat cake, and ...

THWACK ---- I am Grunthar!

My dream fucking exploded.

I am Grunthar, Destroyer of Worlds!

THWACK

What the righteous, holy fuck!

I was sitting bolt upright in bed, my pulse rate just shy of 300 beats per minute, and out of breath. I had no idea who I was or what was happening, but the adrenaline coursing through my system meant I next found myself huddling by my bedroom door before I was aware of anything.

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Light was peaking into the room around my black-out curtains, and the curtain was stretched further into the room from normal.

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A brief aside.

I'm currently in Norway. Norway differs from my previous life experiences in many ways, but let me briefly talk about the windows here. Norway does not have that many annoying/biting insects around, so unlike windows everywhere else I've lived, there are no mesh screens in the windows to prevent such bugs from getting in. This can be ... problematic. Additionally, the window opens via swinging the bottom out as if the pane was hinged at the top. This leaves a crack around 5 cm (2 inches) at the bottom for air to get in. (This is also ideal to let all the street noise and the sound of drunken neighbors reflect directly into the bedroom to maximize sleep disruption. Gods bless the window designers of Norway.)

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Regardless, as long as its warm enough, I like some fresh air, and leave the window cracked.

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SWISH SWISH THWACK THAP SWISH

I am Grunthar, you peasant. Bow before me.

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Something was beating at the curtain, then the window, then the curtain again. Trying to get in. Or, out, I guess.

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Who am I? (I am Jean Valje... no.) What am I doing? (Panicking.) Am I awake? (Yes? No? Which would be 'better'?)

THWACK

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WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?

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SWISH, SWISH

I am Grunthar. All shall yield to me.

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At this point, my mental clutch stopped grinding and began to catch.

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THWACK SWISH THWAP

I am Grunthar ...

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Bird. A bird must be stuck. Fuck. What the hell am I supposed to...

THWACK

Yes, yes, Mr. Bird. Or Ms. Bird. Or Mx. Bir .... you know, I don't fucking care. Out. Get out.

THWACK --- I am Grunthar!

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Fine. Fucking Grunthar, GET OUT.

I wandered window-ward, and tried to figure out how to open the window further by touch, as I didn't really want to face Grunthar and used the curtain as a giant dental dam.

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SWISH SWISH

I am Grunthar, Destroyer of ...

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Well, that wasn't working.

I backed away, and then closed the bedroom door, as I wandered to the next room -- which has the same type of window. As the banging continued, albeit muted by the closed door, I reviewed how the latch worked. Then I returned to my bedroom.

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Where there now was a light-gap between the curtains. Well, fuck. Where's the Bird? I closed the door, opened the window, and then vacated the room. I thought I saw the bird in a corner, but I'm not sure.

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So, there is now the waveform of a bird in my bedroom. As time continues, that waveform is collapsing, but I don't know. I'll never know what happened to Grunthar. All I know is that the shadow of Schrödinger's Sparrow now lives here too, I guess. Wonder if it'll pay rent.

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That was yesterday. No bird today, as far as I know. But Bird tomorrow. Always Bird tomorrow.

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Of course, I remain a dumb-ass and still have my window cracked for fresh air. What is single instance learning?

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tl;dr: I leave my screen-less window cracked for fresh air. During a period of illness, after finally getting to sleep, a bird decided to scare the living crap out of me.