Living

It was my first night alone in a while, so I went home, took a bath, read a book, cooked dinner, watched "Ferris Bueller's Day Off", talked to good friends, played my guitar and listened to melancholy music. I finally fell asleep after the tears dried on my cheeks and once again I dreamt of my mother and my sister. (I don't how many of you readers know this, but I have been interpreting my dreams for many years and the usual interpretation goes as follows. My mother symbolizes a break from a partner that can be repaired if I choose to make the effort and my sister represents problems with the people near or in my home. This particular dream is no exception to these translations: my heart is shattered and my upstairs neighbor is continuing to drive me nuts.)

In the dream the three of us were on this placid lake holding tightly to ropes trailing behind a speed boat. A driver settled in and took off around the lake and my mother, sister and I without water skis managed to maneuver on our bare feet through the water. It was very cold and fast. The three of us were terrified, but we didn't know what to do other than hold on as tightly as we possibly could. White-knuckled and the wind kicking at our faces we each skated from left to right. Finally, as if our minds all became one we decided to let go and the momentum made us weave right and through carved boulders that led to the ocean. There we swam and struggled to return to the calm waters of the lake. The sun was setting and sparkling upon the blue waters when suddenly everything went calm and warm. Each of our hearts began to settle and we smiled at each other with relief. The chaos of life was finally beginning to diminish and communication was about to begin.

Ugh

Can I go home and cry now?

Hole in My Shoe

I am not enjoying this feeling. It reminds me of having a hole in my shoe when it rains. The water seeps in and makes my feet cold and clammy. The only way to make them feel better is to take my shoes and socks off, wash my feet and put on dry socks. Unfortunately, I am having a difficult time washing this feeling away. It tugs at me and I am unable to eat. I try to fill a room with words as a distraction, but it is just sitting here watching me and waiting until I am all alone with my thoughts. In the late hours while I should be sleeping I lie awake with my eyes closed: thinking. Sadly nonsensical flashes of insight flicker and fade as I escape into my haunting dream world. I remember seeing my mom in the distance and trying to get her attention as her visage went blurry and I tragically succumbed to blindness. I could sense she was still there, but her responses sounded like they were under water. Her words were barely bubbling to the surface when I went deaf. My body quickly went numb. I died.

When I woke up this morning my left arm was numb and I suffered that twisted moment of discovering that my pain is real. I am suffering loss and there is no way to get around it. Not even my friends' and family's hugs can shield me from what I am feeling deep inside.

Epiphany

Last night I fell asleep without earplugs humming myself asleep to cover up the obnoxious sounds of my neighbor pacing and his television blaring. At 2:00 am my prayers were answered when he finally shuffled off to a room not directly over my head. At precisely that moment I fell down the rabbit hole and into a huge crowd of people: visages I knew such as my sister, my mother, and my flattened ego. I raged into a microphone teary-eyed about a hatred so strong that only love could be at it's roots. I held something metal against my head and sometimes at the masses gesticulating to clarify my point of view. The people swayed in fear and shouted back common sense. I was not listening. The furious blood pumping through my arteries and veins made the world go silent and that is when I did it. I pulled the trigger and the bullet sliced through my brain and everything went black. I ruminated in that blackness for what seemed hours comtemplating my passing sans images and sounds. I had succumbed to death and finally found that peace I have been seeking.

I woke up this morning with the answers to my life, but I was running late to work so I shoved them back deep inside me. When I have time again I will draw them out.

Female Sereal Killer

The estate was grand with luscious green rolling hills and fountains. Off in the distance I saw her fanning her extraordinary long eyelashes at a handsome dark-haired muscular man. She smiled at him and I could tell that she had already mastered him with her beauty. He blushed. She gave him a bashful giggle starting for the house. She saw me and her sweet eyes turned wicked.

"She is my best friend you know, but she has been acting a bit strange lately. Also, I know that this sounds super weird, but I could have sworn that her hair morphed from blond to black to blond out of the corner of my eye yesterday and as it happened she growled like a lioness. A shiver went up my spine and it has not left."

She tapped me on my shoulder and with a slight accusation said, "Paloma?"

We both, her and I, chimed, "Yes?"

I could feel the word crawling out of her throat and vice versa.

"I have to go and clean up for the party."

She whispered, but I could hear it more in my head and less from her, "Yes, Paloma. We both know that he would be angry if we were not prepared. He might even hurt us."

If he did, I would hurt him back. I'd kick him and bash his knees in with the closest object and then run down that hill sliding on that dewy grass. I'd probably fall, but I'd pick myself up.

She disappeared into the mansion floating and glowing like an innocent child. I saw him in the corner watching her. He was a creepy voyeur, but he always ignored me. When he would rage at her his forceful physique would draw through me and cruel intentions permeated my flesh. I had forgotten what I looked like and took comfort in the fact that she and I looked so similar. All I had to do was look at her to see myself: beautiful, manipulative, a victim and sometimes mean.

The guests started arriving and begging for money and food. The air was chilly, but the sun was out so she shined. They adored her and fell victim to her naive warmth. Like sweet puppies they followed her as she toured the palace. I reached out to the stragglers, but they didn't acknowledge me. As he watched her his jealousy filled the room. He then rushed from the corner and grabbed her left arm and tugged her upstairs. No one fought him, not even me because for some odd reason I felt like she deserved it. He locked her in a room on the third floor and sat outside like a bouncer.

Politicians and the police started arriving for the extravaganza and each were perplexed by her absence. A party without a hostess almost doesn't seem like a party.

I walked up the stairs and saw him sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. I unlocked the door and found her wickedly crouched in the corner with blood all over her face and hands. She was shaking. She fanned her gorgeous locks over her face and then whipped them back. The blood disappeared and her face looked precious and soft. A sharp ringing commenced and I could hear people screaming, "He's here! The sereal killer is here!"

The news vans arrived and the politians brushed the lint from their suits to speak after sharing whispers with the police.

Clearing their throats, "Yes, as you can see here," fanning their well-manicured hands towards the cementary to the side of the house, "the plane crashed and they buried their bodies here." The people gasped and rushed towards her as she came outside. She hunched over and failed to speak. The masses wrapped their arms around her and tried to console her.

They cooed, "He won't hurt you, again. You are safe now."

A Latin cop sauntered through the crowd and told them, "Back away! She's coming with us!"

Her eyes went wicked and we all lost sight of her, but I could hear her screaming and something else was screaming, too.

When we found her the bloody paw was resting near her. Her face was smeared with blood, bones and flesh and her eyes were wild. I looked at her face and then to the miles of cementary and then back. She was smiling. She was smiling at her victims in their coffins and no one knew, but me and when I looked down to see myself there was nothing to see.