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CAT-A-TONIC
DALLIANCE The night told many a curious thing … drifting as
mist through an open window and curling round Fefe’s bed. Blank eyes
stared ceiling-ward from a sleepless head … as heavy metal rifts and
screams pulsated on beat … somewhere down there in a dingy basement of
a bleary mind. Despite the forceful sway of metallic cacophony … tales
of beckoning night secretly stole the music away … snatched her from a
bed of dreams. Wide eyed, she approached the sill as sharp night air
perked her leaden wonder ... as the metal din receded to a purr. Heavy
silence assailed her psyche as forceful as a scream … crowding the
mellifluent blasts away, her soul hungrily absorbing sanctuary with
witless thanks. She savored the temporal release from a relentless world
of frenzied ravings … and reveled in the rare pristine moment of
quietude … unable to fathom the bliss of such fleeting redemption.
Staring out into the silent moonlit night, an apparition captured her
resolve, a mystified constellation of monolithic statues … no … no
… a circle of cats! … felines stretched upward and sitting in full
length on haunches, in mystic ring formation … staring into space.
Fefe stared mystified at this formation … catering up thoughts
of Stonehenge and druids and rituals and solstice dancing round bon
fires. About twenty cats sat in perfect form in a circle with Blackmoon
in the middle. They stared straight ahead without a moving muscle or a
side glance or anything. They just looked straight ahead, like statues
… reminiscence of Easter island statues gaping out … out to the
stars. Blackmoon did a mystic dance around them, brushing against them
… but they remained stoned cats … frozen in time … stalemated
statues, as if petrified from a ten-headed cobra glare. They appeared to
be hypnotized by Blackmoon, completely under his spell and dominance.
Fefe started to name them, one by one, as if in a ritual initiation, as
if she were in a catatonic state … talking in tongue.
Nothing lasts forever. Quietude slipped away. The cats were gone.
It was all like a dream. The charm ebbed away. Unwillingly, metallic subterranean
blasts rose from deep crevices of her brain, once again, like amplified screeching
cat fights … the cumbrous music taking a dominant din once again.
“death death death….” *
* *
Zak twisted left and then right, pulling a blanket around him, desperately
trying to sleep. The hour turned three o'clock in the morning and he
ached with fatigue. Finally sleep came and he lay still for awhile ...
until eyes began to move rapidly under eye lids.
A freckled face contorted and writhed in his sleep. He found
himself in dreamland, with foggy visions of a girl running along the
edge of the woods and him in pursuit. The girl glanced back with panic
and he feels wild with hungry for her, like a predator. He feels like a
wolf and runs on all fours. It is a full moon as he chases his prey, and
he looks high to the moon and howls, and salavia drips in anticipation.
She appears like a young deer, very tasty and tender and fearful, and
this makes him feel strong and powerful…..
He chases ... she runs, jumping over fallen logs, she falls down,
gets back up, looks back in fear ... but it appears to him that she
wants to be caught! Yes, he thinks, she really does want to be caught by
him. She is actually attracted, he is thinking. Who is she? He
recognizes her, yes, it is her, he feels excitement, Fefe runs from him
and he is so glad, because he really likes Fefe, he wants her, and she
wants him! He know it now, like a wolf on the kill, he closes in on his
prey ... but somehow the dream is lost like a wisp of fog in early
morning sun.
Another morning and forgetfulness of dreaming. Another day. Then
the next night comes in schedule, and so does the dream. This time ...
red scraggly hair flopped about like a mop cleaning up filth of the span
of years of deep, dark, ugly thoughts. Zak then drifted off into
semi-sleep, and visions crowded his mind, sights of so many poor animals
that he tortured and killed, appeared before his face, with mutilated
ears and eyes. He also saw frightening men-like animals with wild red
hair and ugly grotesque faces and menacing gestures. The animal ghouls
would sink their teeth and claws into Zak's flesh and he screamed, but
nobody could hear or help. The fright woke him up, he laid there
shivering under his blankets, in a cold sweat looking at the strange
flickering shadows across the wall, which frightened him more. After an
hour or so, he calmed down enough to doze off again.
This time, somehow the animal corpses didn't come, that was a
relief. This time he was out in the woods. Why was he in the woods? It
was dark too, could hardly see, until ... he came to a clearing and saw
the Moon shining above. It was a nice clearing, and he sat there, until
... this girl arrived there by the far edge. He said something, it
sounded like a purr at first, she looked startled, but stood still and
listened, and he talked about the moon, then his dream faded.
* * *
A lazy Sun plummeted down into the sea, making dusk
of the day and shooting sprawling colors about the vast Pacific.
Harrison watched this wonder from his window, as he snaked his car
across Hwy1, dipping up and down, and in and out the roller coaster
hills. Sea and earth and sky danced a ballet on the stage of his eyes.
He thought to himself, “what an excellent reason to be alive
... just to see this! … and is it eyes of flesh that see such
wonders, or is it the drinking of the soul? How do eyes behold such
marriage of earth and sea, or is it cosmic reflections … off a mirror
of the soul? Not bad, maybe put something like that in my book?, he
mused. (add part of
worrying of kids) Yes, but fleeting moments of wonder must end, as the
sea vista fades and the road leads on to the bitter sweet realities of
domestic life. Harrison pulled his beat-up Escort into the driveway. It
was a surprise arrival. A little earlier than Wanda expected. She ran out to greet him as Fefe also appeared from
the edge of the woods. There was no hiding it. The backyard, the front,
the porch, everywhere … The whole place was infested … with cats ... cats
… and more cats. Harrison looked here, and he looked there … they
were everywhere. Fefe and Wanda detected vexation in his facial
features. He sat on the porch swing and Wanda knew they were going to
talk, but wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. Harrison started to
open his mouth, and Wanda said, “We know what you’re thinking, dear,
but …, Harrison started to interrupt, ... but, you got to understand
they need … everybody needs … they need love … same as everybody
else. Harrison said, “I know, but we can’t save the
world … we can’t run an animal shelter here … they’ll multiply
out of control! We’ll be up to our rears in cats!” “No,” she said, “we aren’t feeding them, they
come from the woods. The woods feed them. yeah, honey, that’s the
truth, the woods feed them all. They just come out here to visit us.
They’re wild, but with me and Fefe, they’re tame.” “Yeah,” said Fefe, as she petted a kitten. “Ok, but what about disease and rabies …..?” “Well…. uh
… we didn’t think about that. But we can see if some animal has
symptoms. Nature will take care, dear, don’t worry about that. And you
know … there’s nothing we can do about it anyway…” “You might be right there,” said Harrison.
“There’s nothing we can do about those woods.” They all stared at the tangled mess of woods. This
was a fact well known. The woods was an impenetrable fortress. Some
secrets and wonders lay therein. They knew. So, they just sat around the porch, attempting for casual
conversation. Wanda kept interrupting the conversation when she would
see some cat come out of the woods or from around the house, or from
under the porch, and suddenly she called out “oh Caterwauler, oh you
darling little baby waby you … as a feisty tabby kitten pranced out on
the lawn and attacked another kitten, and they went tumbling over each
other in the grass, biting and clawing and meowing and physting, as the
womenfolk laughed with delight. Harrison’s eyes drifted upwards. “Don’t let him get you like that, Tigertin, you
big boy you, now get him back.” cheered Fefe. “Tigertin?” said Harrison. “Yes, Tigertin, I named him Tigertin after those
cute little orange and black stripes all over his back and tail,” said
Wanda. “Well, I guess we’re all just one big happy
family.” “You’re starting to get the idea, dad,”
said Fefe. oh Striptatone...
* * * “Am I awake or dreaming?,” Jeb was thinking as he
went walking down to the beach with Aristotle in front.
“Oh yes, this is what I was trying to remember, and here it is ...
just as clear as day.”
The vision was clear. Jeb was cognizant of it all. He knew he was
in his dreamland, but just as conscious of it as when awake, as good as
if awake. Here was the world of dreams, that other half of life that we
forget. Now it was the real thing. Somehow his determination to remember
paid off. By sheer willing to be aware and to remember his dream, he is
now walking in it ... smelling it ... hearing and seeing it in color ...
with full cognizance.
It is almost as if ... well,
what really is the actually reality? Is it this world ... or the
other?
Jeb and Aristotle walked, but did not walk. They were here ... in
this dream, but ... but not really here. There ... but not really there... what?
Not exactly walking ... but floating ... right above the ground. He has
done this many times before in dreams ... he knows it now. But this time
he is awake to everything. Sight, sound, smell, its all there, in vivid
technicolor. He's taken control of the dream ... he is definitely in
control now.
And here is Aristotle walking along with him. They seem to float.
That's right, Jeb and Aristo are floating in the air... Oh yes! and fun
it is. And who is that person there ... there, sitting over by the
cliffs edge. Jeb and Aristo
circle around him ... round and round, up and down, in the air, they
float around the person, so many times. Like an airplane flies around
and around some island in the sea. It is funny that Jeb didn't recognize
him so quick. Seen him so many times in these dreams before, but it
never registered before ... until now.
Yes, its Jehrom. Gotta be Jehrom ... but the beard is longer, and
whiter ... and clothes are whiter too. They seem to glow. Like some
angel or jinn or similar. And Jehrom looks up at Jeb, .. and Jeb knows
that he knows. They both know that they've been having this same old
dream so long. It is just that Jeb is starting to get a handle on it. He
is starting to remember ... and see and hear with this new awareness ...
and control.
Then Jeb looked down, towards the rocks. Those rocks that he had
that weird scenario with before. Now there is something strange, there
are some florescent light forms shooting up and out of the rock
formations. They are streaks of light, shooting up and circling up above
in the air ... forming a silver whirlwind, and then they hovered for a
few long seconds and then plummeted down into the waves ... then rising
again and going in and out of the rocks and frothy waves.
Jehrom saw it too and they both, with Aristo flying in his dog
body, went over to inspect it. They are witness to something wondrous.
.....
Jeb looked down, and saw something strange, some florescent light
forms are shooting up out of the rock formation below ... circling up
above in the air forming a golden whirlwind, and then plummeting down
into the waves, and going in and out of the rocks and frothy waves.
* * * It was 3:00 am, he rolled out of his bunk, up before
the dogs, he always said. He was a militant man and he's got to
discipline those dogs. Got to whip them into shape. He stepped into the
can, up to the mirror. This was not the most pleasant part of his day,
looking into the mirror. For one thing, his face did not look all that
nice, especially at 3 o'clock in the morning. Another thing is ... that
he had come to detect a strange fear deep in side, a passing tremor,
coming from this mirror. Didn't know exactly why, it was a dim mystery
in the back of his mind ... why the mirror? He had prided himself on his
audacious intrepity, his macho veneer, his sneering in the face of
anything this world had to throw at him ... even he could leer at the
mouth of death, with no worry in his head of the blackness beyond. So
why a lousy mirror on the wall?
It was hard to see himself in all the haze. "That slacking
Jorkens, I told him to KP the can! He's going to get it today!"
He swiped it clean with a towel, and he looked hard at the face
staring back ... his face, or whose face? It took a second to recognize
it was himself staring back ... come-on, it was 3 o'clock in the
morning.
Then ... the first flash of horror made register on his retinas.
He couldn't believe his eyes, he balked, blinked and looked again ...
but it was gone! Could he ... what? Did that happen, did he see that?
Could his tittering mind be thinking this?
Or could this be the beginning of the thing most dreaded?
Something ... somewhere down there,
What was it he saw? No, it wasn't true, ... or was it? Did he see
that? How is it possible? How can his dangling swastika, that little
silver swastika ... there, dangling on his earlobe ... always swinging
back and forth ... sort of like a nazi flag, flapping in the breeze, ...
saying to everybody ... "Hey you out there! You all lookout, cause
the Fuhrer's coming back, and we're going to kick all your inferior
butts!"
How in the heck, could that swastika turn into a gold hoop? This
is what his mind asked himself.
A gold hoop!
A big one too! No. It was real. That was sure. His mind does not
play tricks on him. Not his mind. No, he actually did see it, a hoop it
was. Then it was gone. Then the swastika took back its place on the
lobe. O well. Well … anyway, he told himself, life is going to have to
go on, we still got a sick world out there to clean up … right?
* * *
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email- vishoka@jayananda.net |