Home | Community | Message Board


This site includes paid links. Please support our sponsors.


Welcome to the Shroomery Message Board! You are experiencing a small sample of what the site has to offer. Please login or register to post messages and view our exclusive members-only content. You'll gain access to additional forums, file attachments, board customizations, encrypted private messages, and much more!

Unfolding Nature Shop: Unfolding Nature: Being in the Implicate Order

Jump to first unread post Pages: 1
Offlinelot_justice
C.L.I.T. commander
Male


Registered: 08/10/13
Posts: 855
Loc: nowhere man
Last seen: 9 years, 3 months
A recapitulation of a dream
    #19380953 - 01/07/14 05:04 AM (10 years, 24 days ago)

We were in the back of a van. One of those airport vans, a shuttle, the seats of which run horizontal to the stream of windows facing each other.  There were six seats on each side, one aisle of girls and one of boys. Two of our junior high teachers sat in front. Ms. McGinnis was in the passenger seat, twisted around at her emaciated waist, smiling through the hole in the headrest cushion with all of her madcap mania, eyes darting between the pairs of us like epileptic magnets.

She was the one that had grouped each of us up- one girl with one boy. It was cute, she said, just like the old days.

Her memory was impeccable. She’d managed to match me with the first girl I had ever crushed on, a bleach teethed blonde who had once wore a bow in her hair and shared an affinity for Sheryl Crow. Catholic school during the 90’s was an awkward time. Nonetheless, in a graduating class of 22, I figure I had my roll with each one of those girls at least once as I had trudged my way through grade 8. Perhaps the anonymity I now treasured, cultivated after my escape, really did remain. Perhaps, I was safe.

There was a pinprick in my ex-fiancés arm. But just how did I get here? I mean, I was 23, one semester away from graduating college and…

“We’re here!”

And now I was at the bar. Great. JJ’s, one of the more successful of the night spots in this wheezing town. During the early hours of the p.m. it was a sit-down restaurant specializing in anything deep fried. During the summer months they set up a fenced in patio. With beautiful wooden fixtures offset by a cement floor on the inside, it was a home to both lower middle and upper middle class types, married couples well into their 40’s, with the occasional scum-fuck kids stopping in for a drink or three as they crawled across the night. An altogether unsurprising venue for a class reunion, which is apparently why we were here, the rest of the 22 piling out of a second shuttle which had parked just behind us.

My “date” hooked arms with me and postured some sort of joke, her words a sepia toned shudder filtered through an old t-shirt soaking in some ankle deep ditch puddle miles away. With my free hand I swiped the bridge of my nose. It was all clear. I smiled as she tilted her head, and she returned the gesture, so I knew that I was OK. I was present enough. I had responded in an expected way. I was OK.

God, I wanted to fuck her. Right on that wood-top bar, I’d do it. Lay her down into the dribble of drinks past and dribble once again to a dream passed. Crushes are like comets in this town; they disappear forever, circle the sun, and shoot back again for another run. It was so consistent. The enticement, the unknown, on the other hand, was within me. Would I still be around?

We unhook arms as she orders a drink and I swipe my hand across the bridge of my nose. I have to get out as soon as possible. I am no longer one of these types. I flag the barkeep for a Diet Coke. I don’t drink anymore, I just can’t. He requests my keys anyways.

The air is acrid, or maybe it’s not so much the air, but the words that inhabit it. This bar is hell. What really is hell is that 9 out 10 will walk out of hell after a jigging with the Devil and feel all the richer for it. I, on the other hand, will piss frequently, fucking Diet Coke, pretending to admire the urinal graffiti, and the bits of stories I overhear on my way back to my garbled date will make me crawl into my tortoise shell for weeks after this, a place of refuge within which the air will slowly turn acrid, and will become hell.

And then I’ll get high. And then it’ll be just fine. Except for the fact that everyone that ever put me there will know and they will look at me like no, it is not fine, people like you should either stop being people like you, or should die. Like she did.
A different story for a different life.

I’m walking back to my apartment in the night. The air is crystalline, as in it is sharp. It’s geometric, and in the gusts of wind I spy deities. The human brain is programmed to recognize patterns, however, I’ve been scolded. I laugh. What I know I will never say. And none of this seems very real to me, and I don’t really feel quite all there. There’s a hole in my ex-fiancé’s arm, and I am one of her dying, graying, decaying hairs.


Extras: Filter Print Post Top
Jump to top Pages: 1

Unfolding Nature Shop: Unfolding Nature: Being in the Implicate Order


Similar ThreadsPosterViewsRepliesLast post
* space shuttle at night
( 1 2 all )
snoot 1,675 21 03/17/08 03:26 PM
by ApJunkie
* The Art of Dreaming johnB` 730 4 04/14/04 01:33 PM
by KackleDude
* Time To Dream mr_kite 539 3 01/31/07 04:45 PM
by mr_kite
* The Creative Potential of the Dream State WScott 943 10 01/04/10 06:00 PM
by Wasteland
* Silly Poems With No Real Meaning Muppet 1,386 7 08/17/02 06:13 PM
by Muppet
* Systematic Chaos - New Dream Theater Album TypicalTripper 1,841 19 06/15/07 10:24 AM
by psycho_bin_farma
* a dream/trip inspired photoshop abortion Turd 964 6 02/20/04 11:31 AM
by Turd
* Ed a poem of a dream I had (that may soon be reality) Gillette 677 3 01/15/04 05:21 AM
by Jared

Extra information
You cannot start new topics / You cannot reply to topics
HTML is disabled / BBCode is enabled
Moderator: Middleman, automan, DividedQuantum
225 topic views. 1 members, 3 guests and 1 web crawlers are browsing this forum.
[ Show Images Only | Sort by Score | Print Topic ]
Search this thread:

Copyright 1997-2024 Mind Media. Some rights reserved.

Generated in 0.022 seconds spending 0.007 seconds on 13 queries.