Some Whole Wheat Words

And Other Up-Lift

Archive for April 2008

Short Hiatus

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Do enough drugs and eventually you start to wonder about baseline. Back in the distant past unclouded and young there was a baseline level of energy that did not require maintenance. At some point almost forgotten creativity did not arise as a set of biomechanical complications associated with substance intake but existed on its own like a bright corporeal haze. Like a patch of unexpected sunlight magnified in contrast to a day of rain.

Live in enough places and eventually your sense of place is scratched and clouded. This for instance is a basement which has followed a living-room. Memories of other places can be recalled and examined but not trusted. Houses are interesting to observe from outside but they are no longer easily remembered. There are both windows and walls in a house, instead of one or the other.

There are tapping noises in these walls. The small windows are deep set into them and high up along them and very little sunlight makes it inside. When I am deprived of sunlight it is difficult to guess at where I am in relation to my baseline. My guess is far away.

A Dream I Had

I had this weird dream. I was somewhere and somewhere had moist peaty red ground and the atmosphere was throttled by heat. I was a hunter and always had been a hunter and I was armed with a bow. I notched my bow and crouched waiting by the salt-crusted shore of a lake which had been clarified by acid. The sun was nauseously bright, bouncing off the surface of the lake to strike me in the face.

Things came from the lake. They looked as if trees and elk and carnivorous dinosaurs had melted together or forgotten to separate and evolve individually. They had pineapple skin and antlers and long butcher-knife teeth which I saw as they opened their mouths towards me. There were no eyes; twitching feathered antennae grew from the sockets. Something stank powerfully of bleach and airplane glue. I let an arrow fly into the nearest Thing which buzzed electrically and twisted with its skin creaking in the killing sunlight. My head was splitting with the brightness and the afterimages of the glare clawed at my eyes. Avoiding a gout of pressurised blood which spat from the wounded Thing I notched another arrow and loosed it and it struck heavily into the soft flesh around an antennae and the Thing collapsed into the lake with a blast of pure white noise. Suddenly I found myself looking at a mirror; feathered antennae sprang from my eye sockets and explored the cool surface in gentle non-human motion. I woke up suddenly.

It wasn’t a very good dream.

A Dream I Had

I had this weird dream. I was a little green being in a daisy chain of other little green beings deep underwater. I was finely constructed like the motion of a watch and I glowed like a wintergreen spark in a dark room. Comforted by the warmth of the Ocean, I let the tide move me and watched as it turned my daisy chain into a bright green sine wave. All the people I know were part of the daisy chain as other little beings with their arms linked in mine.

“It’s dark,” I said to everybody. “I’m afraid of the dark.”

“We can’t help you with the dark,” they said back to me. “But we are here. We’re close by.” A bubble passed me on its way up to break surface.

“That helps more than you’d think,” I said to them.

“Funny how that is,” they said back to me.


Written by wholewheatwords

April 12, 2008 at 10:17 pm