Bad dreams woke me most nights. Booze soaked dreams of loss and emptiness. Dreams with no form, only emotion. Dreams of vivid color and shape and Marie and never me. Dreams haunted me. Fucking pestered me. I'd wake up, sweating and exhausted. I never got more than a few hours of sleep a night and I began to see it in my face and behavior.
It was a little after three and I was sitting on the edge of my bed staring at the air conditioner and telling myself "it was only a dream." Lingering madness and sadness bore through me and I tried to push it away. I wondered if it was imagined at all, or realized. I sat and the cold air spread across my body and made the sweat cool and disappear. Marie was asleep next to me and shuffled a bit as I stood up and left the room, opening and closing the door as quietly as possible.
The house was black and hot and I imagined this, this environment, this feeling, was the alcove of hell. I wasn't going to the kitchen to pour a drink. I wasn't going to the computer to write. I was next in line for damnation and isolation. Emptiness and loss. I couldn't shake my dreams.
I took a glass from the cabinet, a bottle of Chianti from above the fridge, and sat in front of the computer, small cursor blinking against the hard white light, saying "well, Mr. Writer? What now? Fucking impress me."
I poured and swallowed a glass and stared at the cursor a bit longer. Then wrote:
"I think I'm dying. Bit by disappearing goddamned bit."
I deleted it and went back to staring at the blinking fucking cursor over another glass.
Nothing came. I finished the glass and poured a third.
In the dream I was alone. It was warm out and I was walking the busy sidewalks of Lake Henry. Marie had been there and she was with someone else and she had emanated a great hatred for me and in my dream I deserved it. I didn't know why. In the dream, I had done it to myself and Marie was right and my great cosmic emptiness was somehow justified to the universe.
I wrote.
The night is warm and the sidewalks shift in tides and sway unevenly around me...
I drank.
The bottle had only a few pours left and my head had become light all at once.
I see faces and they are all strange and strangers and a deep regret weighs on my chest, though I don't understand it. I seem to be walking against the people. Upstream. I look at my shoes and back at the people flowing endlessly around me and into me. When again I look up, it seems as though nearly every face and body slows and melts into the background. Nearly every face, except hers. Time stops.
I drink, finish, pour.
I try to say "Hello," but nothing comes out. She smiles and it is a smile like gunfire. It pierces my skin, my muscle, my soul. Her eyes are dark and deep and abyssal and the entire universe is coming down around us in crushing hatred and terror and I know, I KNOW, I am the reason. I am the end of all things. The great destruction. It was me.
I want to look away. My chest burns and swells and I can feel some last bit of warmth drain out of me and I try to look away but I can't. I can only look a little to her left. Her shoulder. Her arm her hand. The hand in her hand. His arm. His shoulder. His face. Strange and massive. His smile. All encompassing and together their faces grow and are everything. Their smiles. Their happiness. Their thanks, for if not for me, they would not be.
I drink, finish, pour the last of the Chianti.
I sink into the ground and the last of me is swallowed by her eyes and the darkness of the night and blame and loss and truth. I am the black. I am the great destruction.
From behind me, I hear the bedroom door creak open.
"James?" Marie says coming down the hall.
"Did I wake you?"
She comes out into the living room and I look at her. Nude, beautiful, and my heart sinks.
"No," she says. "Not really. I didn't feel you next to me. I was just worried."
"Oh. I couldn't sleep."
"Bad dreams again?"
"Yeah."
She bent down and kissed my forehead. "What were they about?"
"Nothing," I said. I saved the file and closed it out. "End of the world stuff, I guess. I'm fine now."
She kissed me again. "Come to bed."
"Okay." I got up and she took my hand.
"I love you, monkey," she said. "I'll fight those bad dreams away for you."
We went back to the bedroom and I laid on my back and she curled up into my side. She was asleep fast and I stared at the water stain on my ceiling and waited for dawn.
Nothing came. I finished the glass and poured a third.
In the dream I was alone. It was warm out and I was walking the busy sidewalks of Lake Henry. Marie had been there and she was with someone else and she had emanated a great hatred for me and in my dream I deserved it. I didn't know why. In the dream, I had done it to myself and Marie was right and my great cosmic emptiness was somehow justified to the universe.
I wrote.
The night is warm and the sidewalks shift in tides and sway unevenly around me...
I drank.
The bottle had only a few pours left and my head had become light all at once.
I see faces and they are all strange and strangers and a deep regret weighs on my chest, though I don't understand it. I seem to be walking against the people. Upstream. I look at my shoes and back at the people flowing endlessly around me and into me. When again I look up, it seems as though nearly every face and body slows and melts into the background. Nearly every face, except hers. Time stops.
I drink, finish, pour.
I try to say "Hello," but nothing comes out. She smiles and it is a smile like gunfire. It pierces my skin, my muscle, my soul. Her eyes are dark and deep and abyssal and the entire universe is coming down around us in crushing hatred and terror and I know, I KNOW, I am the reason. I am the end of all things. The great destruction. It was me.
I want to look away. My chest burns and swells and I can feel some last bit of warmth drain out of me and I try to look away but I can't. I can only look a little to her left. Her shoulder. Her arm her hand. The hand in her hand. His arm. His shoulder. His face. Strange and massive. His smile. All encompassing and together their faces grow and are everything. Their smiles. Their happiness. Their thanks, for if not for me, they would not be.
I drink, finish, pour the last of the Chianti.
I sink into the ground and the last of me is swallowed by her eyes and the darkness of the night and blame and loss and truth. I am the black. I am the great destruction.
From behind me, I hear the bedroom door creak open.
"James?" Marie says coming down the hall.
"Did I wake you?"
She comes out into the living room and I look at her. Nude, beautiful, and my heart sinks.
"No," she says. "Not really. I didn't feel you next to me. I was just worried."
"Oh. I couldn't sleep."
"Bad dreams again?"
"Yeah."
She bent down and kissed my forehead. "What were they about?"
"Nothing," I said. I saved the file and closed it out. "End of the world stuff, I guess. I'm fine now."
She kissed me again. "Come to bed."
"Okay." I got up and she took my hand.
"I love you, monkey," she said. "I'll fight those bad dreams away for you."
We went back to the bedroom and I laid on my back and she curled up into my side. She was asleep fast and I stared at the water stain on my ceiling and waited for dawn.
No comments:
Post a Comment