Underwater

I was in a small octagonal submarine with a mission to learn seaweed harvesting techniques. As we went down, liquid came through the bottom of the craft. It was green and gelatinous, and I became claustrophobic from the thought of soon needing to get into the water and use a square black breathing device that was known to attract sharks and dolphins, which was apparently useful for our purpose.

Attack from Within

Her hair is almost white, her fair complexion is masked by an elaborate paint job. The pattern is exotic, the colors vivid. Bright red features predominately.

She is on the floor convulsing. For the first time I am able to perceive that which vexes her.

It is barely visible, a yellowish vapor with a distinct shape. It reaches into her through her vagina with two arm like tentacles.

They look like the spine of some bony fish made outrageously long. Its head is featureless and elliptical, protruding from the end of a gangly limb like torso nearly undistinguishable from the other two appendages. It moves with determination and presence, clearly a calculating life form. I sense that it derives some satisfaction from its probing and the screams it elicits.

As her writhing and her cries cease I look away not wanting to comprehend the significance of such sudden silence.

Twisting Road

I am driving on a twisting, winding road in El Salvador with my sister.
The road is narrow and treacherous, plenty of people have accidentally driven off by a slight gust of wind.
We are headed over a mountain covered in lush jungle foliage and I have a birds-eye-view of the car. As I try to concentrate on the road, I take a quick glance at my sister and notice she is my mirror image.
She gasps as she remembers she has forgotten something, I wonder if we should head back...although I am unclear where back is.
Is it in front of us or behind us? It is clear that we have been here before..the end and the beginning are blurred.

Something Lurks

The ground is littered with leaves of brown and gold. Knotted oaks snake upward, their bodies fat and twisted.

One is missing its canopy. It has a gaping black opening in its trunk. This tree, or remnant of a tree, is to the left. It seems to offer both protection in terms of a place to hide and pose hidden threats of it’s own.

The landscape is uneven. There is a creek bed up ahead. I have advanced on this place repeatedly. Sometimes I find the creek full, other times at a trickle or bone dry.

Something lurks out here. It has taken someone I know.

I am almost in the creek when I catch a glimpse of it beyond the opposite bank. It is quick, running up right like a man, a blur of thick orange fur. I have not seen its eyes, but its mouth is black and has teeth for tearing flesh. It disappears amid the distant trees.

I begin to climb the bank and head in its direction.

Three Women

Three women, myself included, are paddling on surfboards.

It is night inside a place that feels like a bio dome or some enormous enclosed space. The waters are black and we are making an escape… old white men with outdated methods and philosophies, men who teach at universities, are our detractors; we are trying to make a change and go somewhere new.

Then, in the middle of the ocean, my surfboard is pulled under, by what force it is unclear. I try to dog paddle as one of the women dives under to try and rescue it, but she comes back to the surface without it. They are both aware of my propensity for asthma attacks.

Then the other woman slides off her surfboard into the water, she pushes the board towards me and says "Go!! Go back to shore!"

As the two us ride away, and back in the direction we have come from, she tells us to "keep researching." She goes underwater, into an old telephone booth under the surface. In there she waits to drown and be devoured by all the sharks and various fish that are swimming nearby.

Marketplace

The sky is a pale blue cooling into grey. I gaze out at it beyond the telephone wires
I am steadily approaching. I pass through the wires without a tangle and press upward.
I can see the crimson sun set now and its last bit of illumination spilling into a bustling marketplace. I descend to that place.
The buildings are dark, almost black and made of stone. They have an old world feel to them. The crowds are modern however. They sport revealing neon sports gear, fashionable totes and shoes.
In fact, they are even more modern than modern. Combined with the little storefronts all twinkling with lights and digital gadgetry it is a cyberpunk world set in the cobble stone of old Europe.
The tiny streets come to abrupt turns and stops. Every corner poses a question, hides a mystery just around its turn. The fading light of day gives way to the artificial dazzle of LED lights.
I bask in their imitation of warmth, the suggestion of life after life. Here, when the old sun hides its face away, still the crowd can ramble and play, crawl along these little paths like the inhabitants of a well cultured ant farm. That old sun remembers some of the things happening behind these storefronts, and has still to dream of others.

Endless Road

I am with two friends on a desolate road in Idaho or Ohio, some place where the roads stretch on for eternity and humans seem small; their roads, lives, everything is small compared to the infinite space around.

We are on this isolated road to photograph the cover for an album. We stand in the center of the road, knowing no one is around for many miles.

My friend is in front of me and I can see through his eyes into the road beyond...it keeps going straight ahead, gently moving up and down over hillsides, but straight ahead nonetheless. His eyes are like warm stained glass...fragmented yellow, green, and bright brown, they are clear and beautiful and I feel safe.

Without Help

It doesn't hurt exactly, but I can feel it, and it feels very wrong.

Once hidden tissues are pressing out of the gaping wound at my throat. It seems as if my head is hanging on by a thread.
I stand on the street. It bears an air of abandonment, this road that leads off the beaten path. It appears as if I am in a gray and weary industrial park. There is however, a scant trickle of pedestrians, and I am eager for them to notice and help me. I see a black woman and her little girl. They have learned to mind their own business under all conditions. All the same I hope
they will veer of course and help me.

I want to ask for help, call out to someone, but it is impossible to speak with a slit throat. No one notices me. No one who notices cares.

I watch an elderly Mexican gentleman peddle something to passers by. I can’t tell what he is selling but I watch on urgently. I listen intently to his chit chat with the occasional customer hoping that someone will eventually see that I need medical attention.
They are very wrapped in their business, their gossip. They tend to it eagerly. I am loosing a great deal of blood. I’m a horrid mess, but they only glance at my face while relating some
trivial bit of data about weather or politics or what they do for a living.

Dark Blue Water

I was treading water in dark blue ocean waters, my body was bobbing up and down with the currents.

There were sandy dirt cliffs directly in front of me, blocking access to the shore. I tried to climb over the cliff, but pieces of earth kept breaking off in my hands.

I settled back into the water, there was algae bobbing along beside me, swaying with me. My mood was calm, it seemed to be an obstacle that needed another solution, it was a rational thought as opposed to a feeling.

I wanted to get to land...then the cliffs were gone, I tried to swim directly to the shore, but the waves and currents kept pushing me out, further into the sea.

I attempted to start swimming to my right, then I remembered the theory that one is supposed to swim diagonally to shore when the current is strong.

I started swimming again, to my left this time. The water was dark, blue...almost black. I swam confidently and calmly.

Soon, before I realized it, I had reached the shore.

War of Divas

The colors are wild.

Electric yellow bouncy curls, hot pink sunglasses, black and white striped stockings on legs that are long beyond credibility. The costuming seems to stretch beyond the performers and melt into the scenery, a stage that stretches into the most hidden regions of mind.

Whatever is desired can be conjured into existence upon this stage, the shape of the stage itself is subject entirely to whim.

Whose whim?

It seems that there are only two here of any consequence, only two conjurers, other characters are merely the accessories of this pair of Divas.

The duo are engaged in fierce competition.

Each one wants to be the only one, the center of a Universe she creates to adore only her.

It is a gay battle of titans. Everything is called into being with song.

Sound, color, form, constantly shift as the two attempt to trap and out maneuver the other, create scenarios in which the other might be eliminated.

There is no way to win in a game without rules, a game in which the players are unbound and infinitely creative.

Faeries

My friend and I are small, the size of faeries, maybe smaller…
We have the ability to expand as well.
We are in a house which changes into a red tent. This structure expands and contracts
with our movements. We are floating in space, it is black and stars are visible outside the windows; but I also feel we are in a deep ocean that throbs and bobs, swaying us gently in dark
waters.
Looking out the one window, I see there is a wooden ship outside which is looking for us. When it comes near, we hide mischievously, making ourselves small, at one point the structure around us is almost like shrink wrap (the size of a pea, although it feels large) and I have to poke a small hole in the fabric so that air can come through.

Explosion

Everything in the room is beginning to darken and glow around the edges.
The edges jiggle jump and ooze. My heart is racing.
Everything inside seems to slow down and my flesh ripples and crawls so quickly that it must be undetectable by the human eye.
I am sinking fast. The darkness deepens, penetrates everything.
My companion holds me so that our faces are close. I kiss him and my cracked heart explodes, everything hot and black spills out of me.
First from my open mouth and melting tongue, then from every pore.
As I slip into oblivion I know I have been exposed. Everyone can see the contents of my heart in this shattered condition.
The secrets it held bleed into the view of the cruel masses.
Just before my mind and being fold into a tiny pin point and dissolve I am vaguely aware of a girl, sobbing like an animal in the distance.

Dividing Door

I am in front of a door...

more precisely, there is a doorway separating me from a friend; sometimes a door appears, sometimes it is invisible although the feeling of a boundary remains.

My friend is testing the lighting situation, looking at me through the peephole in the door...the sometimes invisible door.

She says she can see my dark shape, she knows I am there...although my details are completely obscured.

Screams in the Temple

A large temple, filled with the flickering of candlelight. Great windows of stained glass surround the place in barely visible colors. Any tiny sound becomes a huge echo in the vast open hall. Two stairways lead up and behind the main altar, which is surrounded by tall, burning cups of fire.

A tall man in a dark robe stands at the head of the altar, looking over all that is happening. His face is hidden by the robe he wears, his hands are crossed and also hidden by the wide sleeves. He evokes a mood of harshness and deep judgement.

I see him from the center of the hall. I know I am safe. But I can hear the screams of others who aren't. The screams come from somewhere behind the altar. I feel the impulse to go and help. At the same I know that this place is Eternal and nobody can truly help the ones who are screaming.

Not unless they know how to ask.

Evolution

The water is fairly shallow, it laps around my calves.
Before me is a cliff wall that curves out into a narrow peninsula. Both the cliff wall and the peninsula are composed of grayish rock.
There is no easy way out of the water which is calm and opens into the wide sea. The salty smell and feel of it is soothing. I look down into the greenish sparkle. To my relief it is clear enough to see my feet and the sandy bottom.
A strange sea creature swims in with the gentle current. It is an amazing Precambrian creature. Squid like tentacles extend out of its spiraling shell. They have a raw look, tender and coral red.
I watch in awe as its upper half begins to separate from the tentacles.
I am witnessing some eerie evolution, the birth of one creature from another.
My heart is deeply affected.
I feel tentative joy and the sorrow of sacrifice.

Couple Watching

There is a dusty road next to a desolate field.

In the middle of the field, a middle aged couple sits on a large sofa and watches TV.

They are very happy. They wave at passersby. They wave at me
and ask me to come over. I look at them from the distance.

They have created a gentle, simple world around themselves, around
the sofa, around the TV. From their post, higher than anything
else around them, they can see everything.

But mostly, they watch the TV.

Mirror

I am in an old shop, filled with old carpets from the Middle East and antique treasures.
There is a mirror I have been coveting.
I have dreamt about this mirror before or have some strange feeling of recognition that I cannot place. It is a large oval mirror, the size of an adult and it's attached to a solid base, so it can stand alone anywhere in a room.
I run my fingers over the carved, cherry wood....the woodworker has decided to make the edges into waves, resembling mermaid's hair. As I admire it, I discover a hidden mirror on the top- it can be pulled out or pushed back. When I pull it out, the bottom mirror is useless- it has stopped capturing my reflection and only in the square mirror on top can I see myself.

Meeting at the Old House

The carpet is the tan carpet of the custom built homes of my childhood. The whole house has that feel. It is a dark earth toned den from a bygone era of architectural history.
Houses like this one are always a little creepy to me… almost haunted with dirty hues of brown. At the same time they make me feel at home.
There are people everywhere. They remind me of over zealous Amway representatives. The leader is blonde, a white trash self improvement high priest. The lights are dim. We are all sweaty and moving through the room.
My solar plexus is weirdly warm.
Women and men wear sparkly lengths of fabric draped and pined in a fashion reminiscent of costuming for a fourth grader’s school play. Their street clothes are still evident beneath the sequins and glitter, New Years Eve party masks, and feathers.
Bodies weave through the space passing closely to each other without ever colliding or pausing, moving as a whole like a school of brightly mismatched fish.

Poisoned Tea

A group of mostly latin women are preparing for battle with their men, the father of their children.
They have known, for some time now- that the men are cold and ruthless and brutal.
And although everything appears normal and cordial on the surface between the two groups, the tension has been building and the women have secretely been meeting...learning how to use clubs and other instruments.
Both men and women are in a room with a long bar...they are all about to go somewhere in a van big enough for the 35 of them and the 12 children, all who are under five.
Before they leave, the men have prepared tea, which they serve in small cups to the women, and it seems obligatory to drink. There is a signal from the head female organizer.
With her eyes, she tells the women that the tea is poisoned and to pretend to drink.
The woman walks out of the room, into the daylight- and becomes a silouette surrounded by blinding white light, spitting the tea out on the grass to her right.

Ride

I can’t believe my eyes.
The road ahead slopes steeply downward. Clearly gravity will pull us off of this outrageous road. I feel frightened but have no hope of avoiding the cataclysm.
I am in the backseat with my hazy sibling and other peers who may or may not really fit into this cab. They seem to fade out into nothing in order to defy spatial restrictions.
This is my father’s pick up truck. The detail to this aspect is very real.
I can feel the coarse tan upholstery under hand as I grip the seats in front of me to brace myself. My father is the driver.
He is in a good mood recognizable from my childhood; full of himself, opportunities knocking and everything is possible.
His passengers are scared shitless by his recklessness and he’s enjoying it.
My mother is riding shot gun, and between my parents a family friend, Maureen.
She crawls down to the floor and lays there.
We’re on our way . Amazingly we remain on the road.