Monthly Archives: June 2011


He is gone.  Left without a word.  All Oliver and I found were some images, a dream’s description and a list of instructions about his house and pets.


The stone dropped.  I felt its rough edge slip from my fingers.  In that moment the dream started yet at that moment, I felt I had let go of something important, something I had been clinging to for a long time with no memory of why.  The stone fell to the ground landing in white, powdery sand.  The impact scattered debris right and left and when settled, my old talisman took form.

The design brought tears to my eyes.  For too long I have be on a path leading from this one scrawling in the sand.  No more I thought and tried to erase it with my foot.  But it wouldn’t erase.  Even with the sand soft and my foot sweeping back and forth the design remained.  Dropping to my knees I dug deeply but the markings lingered.  This was too much.  Life as I have known it began with this portent and now apparently, everything it represents is a sham.

I collapsed, my entire body shook with violent sobs.  I was wracked by anger, grief and loss.  Tears flowed uncontrollably as moans and screams poured from my mouth.  I vented like this till exhausted then just curled up on the sand with nothing left.  I laid there as the sun went down and came up eleven times.  On the eleventh sunrise, a large gummy glob landed on my face.  I wiped at it but a slimy residue just smeared sticky on my cheek.

Even though the sun was blocked, heat still caressed my face and body.  Looking up, I saw a dragon.  Not one of Oliver’s dragons but a beast unimaginably large.  It grunted, moved away and shook its head.  There was no fear.  What did I care if I was blasted by flame or eaten?  Besides, I knew this was a dream.  It walked around me and sat.  The eyes were kind.  With a claw, it drew another familiar design in the sand; the triangle made of lines from an Oliver dream I had months ago.  First row had four short vertical lines, then three below, two below that and ending with a single dash capping the apex of an upside down triangle.

The dragon leaned back on its haunches and looked down at me.

“You want to talk?” I asked.

It should its head.

“Then talk.”

And it did.  The voice was much softer than I would have guessed from an animal so big.  It was Grandfather’s.

“Pissed, aren’t ya‘,” the dragon responded.

“Leave me alone!”

“Not gonna‘.”

“You’re not Melanie’s father, are you?”

“Never said I was.  Nice tidbit to help package up your insanity, though.”

“Nothing is real?  I’ve made it all up?”

“What’s real?”

“I have no idea.”

“Then you’re not a lost cause.  Let’s walk.”

We began strolling through the desert like old friends.  And to be honest, it felt normal, walking and talking with this very large beast.

“You were looking for closure.  But, Moses, this is only the beginning.”


“Yes.  Pieces are in motion.  We all play our parts.”

“Cogs in the machine?”

The dragon stopped, put a clawed paw on my shoulder, and stared off looking at the far horizon.

“The machine doesn’t use cogs.  It’s more fluid with concepts unconceivable yet so simple.  You just need to keep walking.”

And with that he pointed towards a line of shadow people.  They walked towards what I can only describe as a vortex of spinning energy and stars.  I walked, too.

“Keep walking.  Find the pieces and oneness will be yours.”

“You always were full of shit.”

“And always will be.”

I kept walking.  Closing in on the first shadow figure I felt pulled as if by a magnet.  The figure didn’t turn around just kept trudging on.  I tried to leave the line but was trapped, the pull too great.  Then the figure before me began to dissolve.  Like grains of sand merging his granular parts became part of me.  When he was completely gone, I felt stronger, less angst filled.  The line of shadow people strung out in front of me heading straight on to the vortex.

I walked up to the next shadow person and absorbed it,too.  Then the next and the next and the next and on down the line until I stood alone in front of the vortex.  Its maw  lay open like a swirling mouth of teeth.  The outer edges were lined with stars and gas clouds.  In the center was a pin point of light.  I reached for it and was sucked in grain by grain as if slowly releasing each shadow person I had absorbed.  And just before the last fragment of my soul felt the pull from the other side, a voice stated simply, “You are your own fundamental.  You have only to find your scale, your life, your universe.”

If the vortex finished devouring me, I will never know.   As with all dreams I woke too early.  I’ll not try to interpret this vision.  I will follow the only concrete action given; Iwill walk.  Australian Aborigines call it walkabout.  Shamans take to the wilderness for years on end, and now I too will trek for a while lost in the wastelands of the moment.  No longer will I look for answers but only follow the call of dreams.


I don’t know where Moses has gone, when or if he will return.  I will do what I can to continue his work and presently that is helping Oliver acclimate to this world.

Melanie Matthews


Fissible Material

Week 12 Day 5

Father’s Day

Father’s Day

Ray has gone.  Left this morning.  Doesn’t like cameras and doesn’t like “family issues.”  I guess that is now what we face, the three of us.

Oliver, not her Oliver, but our Oliver needs direction.  I have never been a father, at least that I know of.   Yet, thrust into the situation I find myself.

Oliver’s real father, gone.  Many years ago just didn’t show up for work one day.  Never found him either.  I guess another part of the mystery to consider.

But now, with all this new data before me, I feel compelled to make decisions I am neither comfortable with nor know if they are correct.  A father is one who makes the difficult choices for the best of the family.

Happy Father’s Day.


Week 12 Day 2


Part of e-mail from Ray:  “Wild night, man.  Everyones okay.  Driving back in my truck.”

She’s on her way back.  They won’t tell me what happened.



Week 11 Day 7

I have committed to this forum.  I can’t leave you out now.  Play video.

She’s On An Airplane

Week 11 Day 7

I Don’t Want To Go

Week 11 Day 6

On The Brink

Week 11 Day 5

Grandfather see Week 4 Day 2 Grandfather

Occurance see Week 1 Day 2 Oliver’s Story

8th Dimension see Buckaroo Bonzai


Dragons At The Gate

Week 11 Day 2

Once, there was a little boy who lived in a tree near a pond of very clear water.  Every night when the sun pulled up the edges of the land to go to sleep, tiny eels appeared swimming around the pond’s boundary.  And every night, the boy would sit on the shore and gaze into the pool watching the
eels twist and turn around each other, bringing the edges of the pond to a rolling boil.  Within this chaotic ballet, the boy noticed order.  Each eel
knew exactly where their brothers and sisters were.

After many months of observation, the boy concluded that the eels churned the pond’s water to create confusion among its other dwellers the frogs, salamanders and small fish.  And confused, they became tiny morsels easily plucked.  The eels ate only what they needed and their water dance never disturbed anything other than the water’s surface.

The little pond was fed by a small stream.  One night, while sitting in his favorite place, the boy noticed that the water was not boiling but rather frothing in a more than violent manner.  He leaned over the edge to try and gain a better look at the frenzied waters.  With his face just inches from the surface, a large lean head full of teeth reared up from the dark.  Pulling back, the boy just missed being bitten.  An eel had attacked him.  An eel new to the pond for its head was far too large.  His friends, for he did consider the little eels friends, had never shown any aggression towards him.  They actually had curled around his hand when he would dip an arm into the pond.

These eels were new and did not respect the pond’s order.  They roiled up the muck from the bottom, masking anything under the water.
In this blind state, all they could do was strike out hoping to catch anything.  This would not do.  The boy supposed these invaders had come from
the outside by following the little feeder stream.  If his pond were to be saved, he then would be the one to take action.

The boy ran to his home in the tree and found his fishing net.  It was long enough to stretch across the pond from shore to shore and still reach bottom.  But, without weights, it would only float on top.  For his purposes, the boy needed to sink the net’s bottom.  And for this, he had the perfect solution, the carved stone chess pieces given to him by his father.  The boy took first the pawns, then the military, church and finally the royalty, tying each to the net’s bottom with his strongest knots.  They were just heavy enough to pull the bottom edges into the pond’s depths.

The boy then took the net and dropped its weighted end into the pond across from its feeder stream.  Then, with one side of the net tied to his tree, he began to pull the net slowly through the water like a canal lock.  His plan worked.  The weave of the net was too small for the large eels to swim through, yet a big enough escape for the small eels, frogs, salamanders and fish.  The boy drove the larger, clumsier eels across the pond to the feeder stream and with a few stakes in the ground, fenced them out.

The next morning, the boy saw the pond was clear once again.  The net had done its job bringing order back to his little piece of the world.  But, he did notice the larger eels waiting behind the net.  They looked longingly into the pond with all its tasty morsels.  The boy knew that as the steward of this tiny pond, it was his job to maintain the barrier keeping out those who did not belong.  He also must never hinder the water’s flow – a balance necessary to avoid obliteration.

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