The blessing bowl and the fear XIII

Door San Daniel gepubliceerd in Verhalen en Poëzie

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I decided to keep my neighbor's story to myself, why should I bother my partner with horror stories. "You seem a little absent," my wife said after I had been staring ahead of me for a while at the dinner table and was pondering over the misfortunes of my predecessors. "Yes, sure," I laughed, "that is what the cursed bowl does to you" " "At least it's over," she sighed, "I had another oppressive dream last night. What do you say to the love of your life? You say, "Gosh, in what way oppressive?"

"It was at the lake again," she began, "and there was a pounding or a drumming in the distance." I sat up straight away. "Voices," I asked? "Yes," she said in surprise, "more like a murmur, so you couldn't really understand what was being said." A shiver ran down my back. "Was there a strange light," I wanted to know. "I looked over the water and the sun came up," my wife continued, 'but it was different than usual. "How different," I asked. "The sun was light blue," my sweetie told me, "and a moment later the bright blueness of that rising sun lighted up all the hills in hellish blue and in the meantime the pounding grew louder and the water called out to me and I knew for certain, as an undeniable truth, that if I were to go in, I would not ever come out again. "

"If you feel so strong about something, it's a warning," I said to fill in the silence that had fallen. "I didn't want to go back to the beach," my dear said, "but I had to." "What makes you think so," I wanted to know. "Because the drum drew me forward," she said slowly, "and there was something behind me that was breathing heavily and everything turned dazzling blue, so bright blue that you had to shield your eyes with your hand."

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"Forget it," I said emphatically, "dreams are but deceptions." Do you want some more coffee? ' "And what if dreams aren't deceptional," my wife continued, "and if you are really lured by the impure." "Is that how you experienced it," I asked, "as something impure." "Something demonically bad," my wife said, and I wish she hadn't used that word, but I knew fully well what she meant.

"Let it go," I said, "I'll make you some more coffee, the bowl is gone and that's the end of it." "You see," my wife continued, "you as well seem to believe that those strange dream images are brought about because of that bowl." "Let it go," I advised her again, but I knew she had expressed what I feared. "At the coffee machine the gravel voice sounded," now we know it, don't we, the bowl is in you, you are the bowl. I dropped the scoop in dismay and then wiped the worktop clean with the dish cloth. "Bugger off," I said to no one in particular. "What did you say," my wife asked sharply.

"Nothing," I said, and I realized that I was the only one who had heard the gravel voice. With the second scoop of coffee my hand was slowly but surely turned over and that also ended up on the counter. "What are you doing," my wife asked surprised, "let me do it." A bit shaken I walked back to the table and then just before I sat down I thought something behind me was breathing heavily.

 

San Daniel 2019

also read part 14

 

27/12/2019 19:47

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