Nothing Dies – Part 2 – j

I am able to see things from both inside and outside of the dream. Scenes shift. The velocity of consciousness quickens. Optical passageways illuminate the dark mind-space within. Cool air and hot blood collide in my lungs. Drumbeats sound in my chest. I am conscious within a pulsating chamber of flesh.

I see the searing suns of the Milky Way collapse into a vortex of interstellar emptiness and in the same instant I see a cosmos emerge from energetic emptiness.

A high-pitched sound reverberates. I do not hear it so much as feel it on the periphery of my awareness. Soon, it is painful and overwhelming.

Still reluctant, I wake up and answer the phone.

“Art, I called a few times. Did you get my message?”

“I crashed man. I’ve been asleep since I got home.

“Oh, too bad. William Burroughs invited me to dinner. I tried to get hold of you. He has this amazing mind… We talked about art and writing and philosophy. You should have been there.”

“That’s cool, thanks for thinking of me, Keith. I always thought his stuff was kind of negative.”

“He’s a sweet man, really kind. He was so nice to me. I felt an instant bond with him. His work is just…you know…his work. I think he’s trying to wake people up.”

“No doubt. So yeah, man, that was a strange trip today, wasn’t it?”

“What happened?”

“When we drove up here…all of that…leaving the car on the side of the road… the cave.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been in town for the last week. So have you – as far as I know. Are you OK?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m OK. Let’s get together soon. I want to talk about the project.”

“I’m going to Europe in a couple of days. Can you stop over tomorrow?”

“Sure. In the afternoon?”

“Yeah. I’ll tell Julia you’re coming over.”

“OK. See you then.”

Again…this feeling of strangeness, unreality…

I hang up the phone and am overcome with confusion. In an effort to feel in control, I trace sequentially through my memory of the day’s events. The fact that there is a sequence – or that I am convinced I can recall a continuous chain of memory linking one thing to the next – doesn’t change the sense of disorientation I feel about each bizarre occurrence. I am left with the knowledge that this has happened before and that it does continue.

I look up for a moment. The dark-haired girl in the building across the alley is undressing again. About a month after I moved in she started leaving the shades up all the time. Youthful and curvaceous, she is as beautiful as a girl in the window could possibly be. She moves like a dancer until her liquid eyes catch a fleeting glimpse of mine.

Looking away, I turn toward the screen and remember my dreams.

1 Comment

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One response to “Nothing Dies – Part 2 – j

  1. Isaac Kulp

    This particular piece captured my attention immediately. It was surreal and dream like in essence. It had a sort of calming allure to it. The narrator is dreaming in the begging of the poem. He is conscious, and knows that he is dreaming and awakes to the sound of the telephone. The conversation brings more confusion to the man, and is left almost dumbfounded. This feeling is absolutely relatable. A sense of “Deja vou” is strong. The narrator tries to string together the moments of the past to the present, but it still doesn’t make sense. “In an effort to feel in control…” How we strive to be in control, and run the show. There is some lapse, something missing. An unreal sense of time and space. Everything that has happened, will continue to happen. Time is but a circle. Then the narrator looks out his window, and notices a beautiful woman undressing. How powerful this is. A beautiful dream, a beautiful conversation with a friend and a naked women across the window. This piece captures a surreal moment. That familiar moment with all human beings, when something happens but you can’t explain it. You don’t know how it happened, or even why for that matter. So you stop, and try to make sense of it all. String together the moments of the past to create a picture in your mind. Something that makes sense, but it doesn’t quite add up. You feel like you’ve been here before, it all looks so familiar. It all sounds the same. Waking from a something so surreal, a dream and being dropped back into reality, but that reality is no different from the dream. Is there a difference? From dreams and reality?
    Beautiful piece. I love the juxtaposition from a dream, to reality, and back to a dream again. The subtle difference from the dream, to reality is perfect. What seems to be “reality” is as equally hard to differentiate as the dream is. Wonderful use of imagery and this juxtaposition from reality and existence to something more surreal.

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