Tag Archives: Dreams

Gallup to the “Site”

6/27/2011

The next morning, there was no discussion allowed.  They were going to drive me to the place of my birth.   No discussion because I was not allowed to decline.  The trip was a bit over two hours.  After getting their car, we began the drive into the Arizonan outback.

I wasn’t sure how I really felt about having anyone with me.  I wasn’t sure I even wanted to go there, the place where I just magically popped into being, a desert wayside of no importance except to me.  But my dreams, my failures, the synchronous event of buying Sam Shepard’s book, whatever I was to do, I had to start from the beginning.

We chatted for the first hour.  But, they sensed my tension the closer we got.  I sat the last hour quiet in the back seat.  As we pulled up to the spot, I saw a familiar truck parked off the road.  A man of the “first people” stepped out as I pulled myself from the car’s back seat.

“Took you long enough.  It’s goddamned hot out here,” and Ray extended his hand.

I took it and shook.  “Didn’t know you were pining for me.”

“Someone’s got to look out for you.”

I introduce Ray to Beth and Sissy.  I wasn’t sure what Ray’s reaction would be to their status.  We’d never discussed things like that.  Ray, a good person, took it in stride and offered them a cold drink from his cooler.

I left them to walk through the brush.  Intense heat rained down on me as memories dripped through my mind.  It was familiar yet different now.  The energy, the “vibration” had changed.  Oliver’sappearance?  I had no idea.  But the place didn’t call as it had in the past.  Now, I felt the power but not the draw.  It was as if I was a moth and felt the heat of the flame but repelled by the light.  Ray cracked pistachio nuts in his teeth behind me.  I could hear him spitting the shells on the ground.

“Different, ain’t it,” he said walking up behind.

“You feel it, too.”

“Yep.  Soon as Oliver popped out, the whole area took on a new hue.  You know me, even without psychedelics, I see the auras of a place.  This one’s changed.”

“Yeah.  I need to leave.”

“Bad choice coming back?”

“No.  Needed closure.  Now I need to move on.”

We all drove to Ray’s house and had some lunch.  Ray makes the best tamales and always has some stashed away for guests.  After lunch, Beth and Sissy drove home.  I thanked them for everything and told them I would write.

“If you do, we’ll read it.  If you don’t, know we’re thinking of ya’,” Beth said with a smile.

“Find your purpose.  Then you’ll find happiness.”  And with that, Sissy gave me a peck on the cheek and a hug.


Fissible Material

Week 12 Day 5


Am I Right?

Week 5 Day 4

LATER THAT NIGHT

Am I Right?


My Dreams Are Back

Week 5 Day 3


Where Do I Go?

Week 4, Day 6


Back To Work

Week 4, Day 1

After a nap …


First Meeting

Week 3 Day 7


The Boy Who Fell In The Well

Week 3 Day 4

The Dream:

There once was a boy who lived near a well.  The well was very deep and narrow and every day he would fill a pail from its depths.  One morning, the sun was just right, tree leaves rustled just so and all the birds sang the most piping of tunes, leaving the boy enchanted.

 As he did every morning, he set the pail on the lip of the well.  The rope for lowering buckets dangled just out of reach.  Stretching on tip toe, he snatched at it.  But his extended body knocked the pail over the edge.  With a quick grab, the boy too was drawn into the well’s pit.

 He fell, the decent lasting an eternity.  Finally, land he did and quickly all became black.   When he woke, the sun above was gone leaving only moon glow to outline the opening so very far, far above.  He called but no one answered.  No bones were broken, just cuts and scrapes.  He tried climbing but the walls were slick with moss and bulbous mushrooms.   The boy took stock of his situation.  He was knee deep in water with little to eat.  On the plus side, a small pile of fallen leaves poked above the waterline in the middle of the well’s pool.  Being the only dry spot, the boy sat down to wait.

 The next morning, a bucket descended.  With great joy the boy cried out.  Unfortunately, the echo along the well’s long walls transformed his cries into a demon’s wail.   The woman drawing water heard a terrible keening and ran screaming.

 “The well!  The well is haunted!  A demon lives in the well!”

 The boy’s family believed that he had run away.  For the day before when they called down the well, there was no response.  Unconscious at the time, the boy never heard them.  When news reached them of a well demon, they knew then that their son had not run away but had been devoured by an evil water spirit.  The village, not very sophisticated but very superstitious, declared the well haunted and no one was allowed near it.

 After a few days without water drawn, the boy realized he was forgotten.  This would frighten most little boys.  But this was a young man of resource.   With no rescue forthcoming, he cried, only once, because scared little boys need to cry.  Better to be done with it.

After wiping tears, he looked around.  His stomach told him he was hungry.  There were no fish only frogs whose songs kept him awake at night.  Not quick enough to catch one, only moss and mushrooms were a possibility.  The walls grew all the way to the top with both.  Mushrooms could be poisonous.  He tried the moss.  His first taste was horrid but it did stay down.   So he tried again.  The next bite was every bit as bad.  With time the boy became use to it.  With time, he also tried the mushrooms to vary his diet.

 He was never poisoned.

 So began a new life at the bottom of the well.  The boy marked time watching the leaves fall from above into  little piles that he shoved to the middle to increase his perch.  Day after day, the boy notched each new elevation on the side of the well.

 Days, months and finally years passed as the boy became a young man.  With each passing day, his love of solitude grew.  Family and friends he missed but there was an appreciable beauty in time as it flowed over him.  Everything occurred moment by moment or all in a single instant, time itself became meaningless.  That is until one morning when the young man woke to see his pile of leaves grown to such a height that he could now touch the top of the well.  He had lived more life in the well than out, the thought of leaving terrified him.  Would the people of the village know him?  Would his family still love him?  Finally, he could no longer wait.  He had to get back to his life – to his time.  He reached up and grasped the top of the well warmed by the sun.

 Poking his head out, he saw no one.   Because it was assumed a demon lived in the well, everyone in the village, including his family had left long ago.  The boy who was now a man walked through what once were familiar surroundings.  Everything seemed smaller, not the same.   He found his house and it too felt different, as if his memories were someone else’s.  Wandering back to the well he found a large frog waiting for him.

 “Nothing is the same?” the frog asked.

 “You never talked before,” responded the young man.

 “You never asked.  Listen.  You will never be what you once were.  People from the past will miss that most, the old you.  Now, you must find your life and stop letting this well suck dry any more of it.”

 The young man listened intently to the frog.

 “That is sagely advice.  The boy I was is gone.  The man I am to be, I must find.”

 “A sagely response,” and with that the frog hopped back down the well.


His Mother – She Is The Link

Week 2 Day 1


Resonance And Time

Week 1 Day 5


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