I've mentioned it before, the lethargy that greets me sometimes in Hafford. It's been enveloping lately. Even drunk, I just swivel my head and look around in futility. When I get high my head feels lighter as it turns, but the dullness remains.
I'd like to blame the trees, but that's unreasonable.
Only in my dreams is there any real escape.
Last night I dreamt I was Santa Claus, flying slowly over the Crooked Trees in a cruel August heat. From the sky they looked like thick tangled hair pushing its way through the sleeve of a soldier's cotton jacket. I'd never really noticed them before.
"Jesus Christ," I said, contemplating the mess from above. I stopped my sleigh in air, eighty feet above. No wind. No sound. Just a buzzing heat. I stood up and leaned ass-first into the sky. I'm not sure why. My thick hands and booted feet secured me as I backed out.
Then I let go. Purposely. I asked the weight of gravity to have its way. My eyes blurred and I waited for the fall. But nothing happened.
Nothing at all. Like death. I can't quite describe it. There were no sensations and no thoughts. Not even memories. My identity was gone. So was any sense that I was within a dream.
4 comments:
I feel enrapt by your entry. Boredom - I could probably add a narrative or so on the subject to the universal collection.
I buy paperback novels for a living. Oh, Ms. Roberts what a large house you must have.
looking at the crooked trees from above and all you can say is jesus christ. you know that's gonna be a whole chapter of its own one day when i write "Finding God in The Crooked Trees of Hafford, Saskatchewan"!!!
i hope you know i'm joking.
i think.
Jon:
I hope you know I laughed when I read that. I really did.
Maybe I'll write a book like that someday under a pseudonym, and inside it would be no text, but 200 hundred pages of images of the trees, in magic eye.
I don't go to church often at all, and I don't think about God much. Maybe now that Mrs. Scurfield and I are becoming friends I'll begin going to church a little more.
Forrest:
Forgive my ignorance (or forgetfulness), but what did you mean when you wrote, "I buy paperback novels for a living. Oh, Ms. Roberts what a large house you must have"?
Oh god, I've got to learn to punctuate properly.
On second thought, don't tell me.
i can't do that magic eye stuff. never works for me. so maybe do it with your ink drawings. i'd buy that in a heartbeat.
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