he indulged queer violent horrific sometimes unforgiving dreams
but ofcourse he would
he was visiting
When in Rome do as the
Romans do
or as a hirsute trio of
men masturbating in Edwin Hoppers Nighthawks café would have him do
at least they stayed away from
the long countertops the coffee urns they
stood where the sodajerk had fled which
wasnt to say he was going to participate in their circle jerk evenif they thought it would come to that
No gentlemen
Im here to bear witness
then later pluck the eyeballs out of
his head and scrub the hell out of em
dreams have always intrigued him
he fascinated his father at
dinner when he was allowed into conversation at the large kitchen table his parents grandmother his siblings nine when
he unabashedly revealed what he had dreamed either the night before or some
other evening
Interesting. his father stated flatly I don’t dream.
Bummer Dad
Or if I do . . I don’t remember
that I did.
I think thats more than likely
Dad
But you say you also dream in black
and white, not just color.
Yes and in cartoons and text in stillframes static
images asif someone is showing me a
picture book and I have to wait for them to turn the pages because maybe I havent arms
You see Im visitingIm not in
control But little by little Im gaining
controlIm manipulating situations should
I prefer they go in another direction
Recently I read it is something called
lucid dreaming
Lucid dreaming.
Yes Kinda unique
I suppose if you dream; yes, it
might be.
Its too bad you cant remember
your dreams
Well, son, I think dreaming says
something more about you, than about me.
Which Dad youll excuse me I believe is to
your deficit
You think, I’m deficient. his eyes went hardwent almost black he had a lot on his plate a lot of responsibilities children wife mother-in-law
I think as youve said you dont
dream I happen to believe that dreaming
offers insights that otherwise we cannot grasp . or fathom
Well son, you’ll excuse me, I
think that’s bullshit.
his fathers pronouncement was a
challenge he understood
Well Dad yare welcome to think what you wish as Im
welcome to mine
Dreaming doesn’t sound like
thinking, to me.
It wouldnt would it
Youve admitted
you dont dream so you wouldnt necessarily know or
could you legitimately refute it deny it or knowunderstand what I see or think
Yare without a
North Star
I don’t like your
attitude, son.
Since such is my experience is my attitude
If yare assuming Im being disrespectful I am not However I will not apologise for wha I
understandwha I know to be true
his wife and children were upstairs
in the livingroom of their Minnesota quadraplex
lazy snowflakes fell outside
they affixed shrinkwrap plastic inside
to the window frames to combat the frigid weather each and every winter he was astonished that code didnt demand 2X6
exterior wall construction
he was a carpenter
code should demand 2X6 exterior
walls appropriate insulation thermalpane windows it didnt
as his family talked sitting on a rocker two on the couch he was conversing with a woman they couldnt
see just down the hall just beyond the top of the stairs
to his family it sounded like he
was mumbling to himself distracted he oftenwhen engaging a problem talked to himself
his wife however listened to him closer
than his daughters did
she had picked up the
familiarity in his voice
she understood he wasnt mumbling
to himself
Who are you talking to? she
interrupted
Who
Yes, who is it you’re talking to?
she had introduced him to ghostshad
introduced him to demons that crowded about her in bedterrorised hertried to
wrestle her soul away who he blindly
struck at There! she cried There! she
screamedher fist to her mouth so she didnt wakefrighten the children he blindly struck at the unseen and somehow
kept them at bay too many nights to count
Who are you talking to?
You wouldnt know her love
Youll
never meet her
Why would you say that?
Because shell never meet you
But . . she knows me; she’ll know
me.
Yes She will
And the girls?
Shell meet themthey wont like her
his wife stood up from the rocker
walked over and stood beside him she
looked thoughtfully in the hall
I don’t
see anyone.
I dont see your night tormentors
Can she see me?
Yes
Is she a good person?
I believe that by her manner and voice
. .
. . Your familiarity.
Yes if you prefer
my familiarity As you know me you can know she is a good
person
But the girls won’t think so.
That the girls dont like her has
nothing to do with if shes a good person or not
then he was alone
he was remote
he stood on the edge of a yellow
dirt road looking over a disheveled splitrail fence over a scrub and desolate
field at an abandoned brick depot or station its windows are broken some are
boarded with grayed weathered plywood scraps
he stepped back away from the
fence and recognised there were people lined up along it
they looked like weary travelers
they had bundles and suitcases valises
hobo rags tied to end of sticks
some wore two coats because they
hadnt room to pack one
up the road that could either have been the head of the
line or its tail stood a particularly dispossessed man greasy hair ragged beard mismatched shoes those standing near him gave him leeway not because he was illkept but rather they either didnt trust him
or his temperament
where he stood was a good
distance from him he didnt care for
him he didnt care for him without any
reason whatsoever
he didnt like that he made that assessmentout of handwithout reason but he honoured it
I don’t trust him either, don’t
feel bad about it. said a gentleman standing beside him
he knew someone was standing beside
him but their presence didnt attract his attention as the man at the head or
the foot of the line did
Funny he said that you would recognise I was feeling badly . .
. . No, no, no. I know you. You were never one to a snap judgment.
he looked the man in the face
tears sprung into his eyes
Uncle Joe
Hey, boy, how are you? It’s been
too long, too long.
his Uncle Joe was deadhad died
fifteensixteen years earlier
Ya gonna give me a hug or what?
he hugged him as hard as he ever
hugged anyone
Whas with the waterworks, boy?
Im . . Im . Im so happy to see
you I love you
Me too. It’s good to see ya, boy.
Where are you going? Joe, where are you going?
his uncle was dressed in the
black suit he was buried in
he could manipulate his dreams
maybe the next timeif there was a
next time he would stay but he couldnt
stay he knew he couldnt stay his
waterworks and he woke up in his bed bawling like a baby a fullgrown man crying like a baby
he had fifteen uncles Uncle Joe was his favourite after his Uncle
Fritz died
early
AM-dreaming, Day-between-Two-Ts – St
Paddys Day, 17 3. 21 0233, Thursday,
18 3. 21
