lucifer's Hammer

Lucifer's Hammer
........Can't sleep. Afraid to try again after the dream so I will just let my mind skip wherever it wants to roam and try and take notes on the journey.......... Exhausted, Numb headed numb hearted and I don't know what I am going to say or what is going to transpire . I just wish I could have a week out of my life to cut away and have just for me and wondering again why is that so impossible. I want to be childless and responsibility free and I just want to stretch out my arms and run. see myself on a beach in a loose white gauze dress and with a long white gauze scarf falling from my shoulders and feel wind and hear the surf and gulls or seabirds of some variety and feel the sting of salt in the air.... can smell it, can taste it on my tongue even as I inhale .....and I would stretch out my arms with the white gauze flapping, like part of some membrane still adhering from just breaking free from the birth shell, and feel the wind whipping thru my hair as I run, run, running fast and hard and feeling my bare feet pounding against the wet sand underfoot and I can feel the pounding copied within the cage over my heart .... the only cage about me in this moment. This like a dream, and so much of the bad dream, in this ... only it is good. In this a twist to the sun. The DREAM I have had for as long as can remember dreams, I remember a life before the dream but no other dream before this one for it is the first dream ... the only dream I ever had while awake. I have told you a part of the history I believe, maybe not. So many life-changing events in such a short period and so dramatic were those changes. I went from the god like certainty of self of Harper Lee's Scout to the Laura of Tennessee Williams and from a Giant Sunflower to his haunting Blue Roses...... 1965 or so.......Living in a new place, the letter already discovered, Daddy's mistress already becoming a palpable presence in our mind, me a skinny, scabby, asthmatic, sunken eyed, nervous creature trying to hide on a scratchy wool like sofa in early, still hot, Texas fall. Finding no comfort there, bony hips bruised and swollen from the massive injections of cortisone, not finding an easy spot, not finding a zone to rest in. The living room, dusty heavy and oppressive ......... 6 year old me sitting on a sofa, hearing my mother cry as she watched the TV show "Divorce Court" and the fan on the floor oscillating and mocking .......Evil and Predatory in it's slow pervasive sounds, stalking back towards you. Almost taunting, "I am going to get you" in a breathy whisper, just barely under the range of human hearing, and me feeling an antediluvian fear building as reality cracked before me and the fan began to suck instead of blow, using air as its teeth and wanting to suck me in and bite me into tinier pieces........gobble me down on this side of sanity and spit me out on the other side of madness. And in that steroid induced hallucination/dream; that oscillation sound, that malignant fat mosquito circling and switching and circling back sound, kept up it's evil trick and grew fatter sounding and thicker sounding and closer, ever closer, until it seemed to be all there was in me to be aware of, was that slow side to side humming of primordial chaos, almost a possessed feeling of evil within it... and that is when I begin to realize my clothes are gone, all gone but a thin white cotton slip, the kind we wore under our Sunday best dresses. and the mocking, so fearful it feels numbing sound is brought out again and I hear the drone, the oscillating drone, above and around me; only now it is a black god and it creates the wind. A cold wind that pushes and tears at me and bites like a Chicago gale. And I am being pursued! On this I am certain and I am in some Dark Warehouse district with ill smells and long shadows. And I must Hurry and I must Hide! For three hungry men are following me, these innocent characters from an innocent nursery rhyme have been rendered mad by the sound of the fan and they are hungry for me, hungry to feed on what the fan will let them eat when it is finished; so they come looking. A hunting me to serve up to the Oscillator Demon. The Butcher, fat and carrying the heavy cleaver, with blood staining his white apron over his ample belly. The Baker, tall and gaunt with sharp angles to his face, a culinary Ichabod Crane, carrying the longest sharpest bread knife in existence and lastly the candle stick maker, carrying the most frightening long hook that sends shudders even now through me, so like a claw at the hook end, so looking like it WANTED to grab, was hungry to grab, then claw it's prey. I am that prey and I am alone and I must escape these mad men who want to take me to the fan and be consumed. So I quietly run away and hide in the shadows when one of them gets too close and I fear they can hear the pounding of my heart, that they can hear the blood running in my veins and I run some more and hide some more when I hear them, and feel their hunger and I hide again and see their shadows from my hiding holes, shadows stretched and bent and wrapped around the corners of buildings and I fear their shadows will become cognizant, aware! and tell them of my hiding places. The cat and mouse game seems to go on and on and on with no end for me and I begin to wonder if this is any less horrible than actually being captured can be. I must have started to moan and shiver and my mother evidentially got up and came over to shake me and get me to stop acting strange and I can remember her shaking me but she was a stranger to me, no one to trust, no one to feel safe with and I knew she belonged to the rational world and I must choose to respond to her  --- choose to slip back to the outside of the looking glass, and that was so hard to do....to consciously leave this place of mental trickery. The doctors say it was a hallucination caused by overmedication of steroids. Yet to this day that oscillation sound --- if it is the same frequency and heavy tone --- can trigger it to all occur emotionally and I am 6 years old again and cold and terrified and the fear of being pursued by Satan's henchmen once again is with me. Only the feeling, but it is such a HUGE feeling. Thankfully it fades quickly; like some smells cause an emotional reaction, this sound brings back for me the emotion of the dream, muffled thank god by reality. But the dream catches me some nights still and it seems as sharp and real as the first time. I wake from the dream, as I did this morning at 3 and I fear sleep. So I get up and I find something to occupy myself with. Something to occupy me. Me, Exhausted, Numb headed, numb hearted ........ 

Sent from my iPhone