"Is it raining where you are," she asks me.
I am sitting in my car with the radio playing but the volume is set to zero. The lake ahead of me is steely gray & children are still playing on the rocks. "No."
"It's raining here. I have good news: there's a storm on the way. Know that I will be thinking of you with each rumble."
In my dream I am at the mall with Ralph, a seventy-something man with a mortician's pallor & hipster jeans. We are riding escalators & elevators as he tries to help me move from one store to another. In my hand I am carrying a white plastic bag with a phone book in it. The longer I am in the mall, the heavier and heavier the phone book gets. At some point I am wondering why I ever decided to bring this phone book. What purpose does it really serve? It only gets in the way when I am in the dressing rooms. Ralph cannot help me but his presence comforts me. He is peripheral now but can sense him nearby. The heaviness of the book eventually exhausts my body and I am unable to pick up my feet. I am stuck- unable to move even one limb- due to the phone book that I cannot seem to pawn off.
1 comment:
J-Fro,
I came across this song today and felt like you were in the words. Thought I'd share. It isn't exact and hopefully you get why I see you in it:
Counting Crows: Murder of One
Blue morning, blue morning, wrapped in strands of fist and bone.
Curiosity Kitten, doesn't have to mean you're on your own.
You can look outside your window, he doesn't have to know.
We can talk awhile, baby; we can take it nice and slow.
All your life is such a shame, shame, shame.
All your love is just a dream, dream, dream.
Are you happy where you're sleeping?
Does he keep you safe and warm?
Does he tell you when you're sorry?
Does he tell you when you're wrong?
I've been watching you for hours;
It's been years since we were born.
We were perfect when we started, I've been wondering where we've gone.
I dreamt I saw you walking up a hillside in the snow
Casting shadows on the winter sky as you stood there counting crows.
One for sorrow, two for joy, three for girls and four for boys, five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret never to be told.
There's a bird that nests inside you sleeping underneath your skin;
when you open up your wings to speak I wish you'd let me in.
All your life is such a shame, shame, shame.
All your love is just a dream, dream, dream.
Open up your eyes, you can see the flames, flames, flames
of your wasted life
you should be ashamed.
You don't want to waste your life baby.
I walk along these hillsides in the summer 'neath the sunshine
I am feathered by the moonlight falling down on me
Change, change, change.
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