As a small boy I got shot in the forehead
and fell down in a dream. I knew
I was supposed to lie there, dead, but
the other kids all kept running around
in the wide-open maze we were playing in
(a lot of freestanding partitions. Not really
a maze, but enough to provide some cover).
I think one team of kids had guns
and the other did not.
Pretty sure I did not.
Anyway, after a while lying there
I tried the edges of the hole with my finger
and came away with blood. I even probed
into it a touch.
It was freaky cool. Past a certain point
all the other kids running, yelling, playing,
shooting - I got up and started running around
again. "Fuck this," was my thought
though I was too young then
to know the words for it.
They all complained. "Lie down!"
"You're dead!" "You're doing it wrong!"
A while later a kid at school told
the other kids all grave spooky serious
how if you die in a dream you die in real life.
I laughed out loud. The kid was all look of accusation.
I couldn't explain. Too much.
I was just like "I'll chance it."
Another (dream) time I was ambushed, engulfed, suffocated
and totally dissolved by the Blob. The movie monster
the Blob. My worst horror monster, though slugs
were actually worse, fear-wise. Slugs were real.
The process was gross. There was nothing left of me
after. But apparently the Blob miscalculated. I was still
aware, and with no body left ("my poor body!!"
I remember thinking - it was ineffably sad,
the whole thing) I was, by default...the Blob.
So I rolled my murderous amorphous mass
away from the scene through tall weeds,
feeling them stick and bend under me, leaving
a smoking trail. I was determined that nothing like this
would ever happen to anyone again. That night,
that dream, the Blob became vegetarian.
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