Twirl
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I have always dreamed of my own destruction.
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Last night I dreamed I was on an Indian Airlines flight coming into Prabesh or someplace and we were too low and as we passed over the tightly packed slums our wing clipped a building and tore off and as we were going down, relentlessly going down, I wrapped my arms around my wife and I asked myself the question I always ask in that situation:
Eyes open or closed?
The funny thing about this dream is that I have it intermittently and for as long as I can remember, so when I find myself inside an airplane that is going down again, I have this little exchange with myself:
"Well, it fucking figures. You dreamed about this all the fucking time. No wonder you die like this."
*
So last night I decided, fuck it, I'm going to land this motherfucker. And I squeezed my wife's hand and walked up to the cockpit and grabbed the yoke and landed that bitch on this skinny roadway and walked off into the dust and pink and gold and stink of India with my wife on my arm and the smoking hulk of the 737 standing askew on the roadway.
Good for me.
*
In my dreams I have been axe murdered. I have been shot to death numberless times. I have been crushed under falling buildings. I have been tortured to death. I have curled up in a fetal position while knives were thrust into me without ceasing.
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I have a lot of practice in dying.
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I have been in a lot of tidal wave disasters. Ditto nuclear war. Mortar attacks. Sharks and bears. Drowning under the arctic ice is a big one. Elevator collapse.
It is like Jack Bauer all night long in my head.
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I have a violence in me like a disease. I have a romance with it.
Nor would I quit it, though it destroy me.
If you believe violence to be an anomaly, you misapprehend it.
*
Hang down your head for sorrow,
Hang down your head for me.
Hang down your head,
Hang down your head,
Hang down your head, Marie.
****
Do your hands hunger for damage?
When strange noises stir in the darkness, are you compelled to go into the void to face what awaits?
There are more terrible things than being destroyed.
*
We are all for the boneyard. There are no exceptions.
Do you imagine your gentleness will save you?
***
Namaste.
*
PS- In my marriage, I am not indulged to be my true self, I am encourged at it.
Can there be a greater gift?
If there is, I am unable to name it.
****
posted by tearful dishwasher at 5:17 PM
10 Comments:
A brilliant post here, so much beauty in the fantasies of your own self destruction and your ability to transcend it.
I'll think of you when next I'm in a plane about to descend. And hope to live long enough to tell you about it another day.
Elisabeth-
Thank you for your kind comment.
I am glad for your company
I read your work and find it very good.
thank you.
This is a recurring theme Scott- I've been around for a while and had many incarnations always, i think with a rye sense of humors - but! have always TRIED to be truthful - though sometimes expressed poorly through heady states and badly wounded.
You have a way with words here and there - but it IS yours - and I would not envy that nor wish to take it from you, or change your gift. - there - hopefully I've said something cogent for a change.
Yes - it IS the SOBs we want on our side when the stakes are such - the Drs, Lawyers, Nurses,Fireman, EMT COPS, etc --- because they know how to fight for Others too. They have there way, and we are better for it, but the best also know how to really listen, to hear what's in-between -
I've been raked over the coals long enough to realize
I could die tomorrow - this is all I really have.
... but if you don't know what's going on in the first place.. You know, they never used to have informed consent..didn't have to. (which isn't really total consent anyway).. but what it DOES do, this extra bit of paper work is it MAKES people work together, take time for the Shared Good.
Ok - I'm not a soap box or a soapysayles or a soupysapsoapsud, well maybe..
Take care, Scott - you're the lucky one.
life's a bitch
Wishing You and Yours
the Best -
BTW - who's Marie
I'm new to your blog and intrigued -- your lucid dreams are wild --
Wow. Thank you for this one. I would hope to have you on any plane I might be crashing in, just so you could do your thing. For some reason this reminds me of A Prayer for Owen Meany.
And that gift you speak of, from your wife, there's some huge kinda wisdom in that, in the giving and especially the realization, especially that.
Like I said before, wow.
Tearful, it gives me such great hope and courage to realize that someone besides me understands the concept of twirling how it has become almost a religion for me over the years not just a twit thing I like to do in a yellow dress. It makes me smile with my entire being to know that you get it. That you got it the whole time. That you know. Like the guy in the cave said in Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, ha ha ho ho and hee hee.
xoxox
seems like a big deal to me; taking control of the plane in the dream.
and your marriage makes me happy.
I too dream often of dying. Not in as many different ways as you but being torn apart by a pride of lions is one that occurs often. And those same words of yours always crop up "You dream it so often, no wonder you die like this"
PS: I have been in a plane that dropped 30,000 feet out of the sky when cabin pressure failed. we had to turn around and fly back to Sydney where there were rows of ambulances and fire engines waiting on the tarmac for our arrival. I kept my eyes open all the way
I hear you, dear Tearful!
No. I do not think of myself as violent at all. Hardly.
And yet, this question made me think again:
"When strange noises stir in the darkness, are you compelled to go into the void to face what awaits?"
Last night, when my car started a panic attack with its horn, I opened the door with a knife in my hand to see what was what.
Thankfully, there was nothing but darkness that I could see. And I did not leave the safe circle of light to chase whatever might have been hiding beyond it.
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