The blessing bowl and the fear XXVI

Door San Daniel gepubliceerd in Verhalen en Poëzie

                                      170px-PazuzuDemonAssyria1stMil_2.jpg

"You are quiet today," my wife said, while we drove to the Transcanada highway in the Chrysler and I knew she was right. I had half expected a flight of ravens or the dark woman's face or an admonishing gravel voice, but none of that happened. "Well, I am a bit lost in thought," was my reply, and I realized that I did not want to make her part of Indian chiefs and demons and bright blue-lit cellars. Because where would I start?

The radio wailed country western and I recognized an old one from Hank Williams; "why must I love the heartless one." It turned out to have been Jim Reeves, at least the announcer said that Jim was still very much missed, but it was and remained a tear jerker. Hank probably also released it or vice versa.

"You know how your dreams evaporate when you awake," my wife asked. I nodded and then said "yes," because I realized that she would not look sideways when she was driving. "My dream has not evaporated with me," she said, "it is constantly bugging me." "What do you mean," I asked, thinking I knew what it was about, but I wanted her to say it. "From the lake where I was pulled away from the shore," she said.

"How is it bugging you," I wanted to know? "Facets are coming back," she explained as she put the car on cruise control, "meaning that the car would automatically drive to Medicine Hat at the same speed. "There was a rolling drum sound," she continued, "but nothing that you would normally hear, it seemed arrhythmic." "I also had drums in my dream," I said, but apparently she had not heard me because she just kept talking.

The Chrysler hovered over the TransCanada and my love only had to make slight steering  adjustments. "There was an elevation above the shoreline," she said, "and somewhere in there was an opening, an opening from which light was shining, as if an old flash photo was being taken." I shivered involuntarily. "Just a flash," I asked. "No," she replied, "it had that fierceness and that light did not extinguish what you would have had with an old flash block." The radio now spit out the 'fugitive'. "After every road there is always one more city."

Down every road there is always one more city
I'm on the run, the highway is my home
I raise a lot or cane back in my younger days
While Mama used to pray my crops would fail
I'm a hunted fugitive with just two ways:
Outrun the law or spend my life in jail

I'd like to settle down but they won't let me
A fugitive must be a rolling stone
Down every road there is always one more city
I'm on the run, the highway is my home


I did have an image with that text, I felt that I was being followed or lived every day. My love turned off the radio. "It was a bright blue light," my sweetie said, "as bright as you would not expect. It caught my eye even though I was pulled away from the shoreline by a strong current. " I let that sink in for a moment. "That must have been special," I finally said, "if your life is at risk and you perceive something in the distance that has nothing to do with your problem, that is special."

"Hmm," she said, "and there's more, a figure with outstretched arms appeared in the opening." "I'm listening," I simply replied. "There is nothing more to say," she said earnestly, "I was pulled under and I only succeeded in re-emerging using every bit of strength I had in me."

 

                                        images?q=tbn%3AANd9GcTQiiyFd1NcpyppIhpPn

We drove on in silence and when we arrived in Medicine Hat, she asked if I would like to have a snack and a coffee first at 'Original Joe's'. It was one of my favorite places and I immediately agreed. Medicine Hat was a big place and we even had to wait at some traffic lights, something you didn't have in our village.

We finally drove into the large parking lot and stopped at what had become our favorite restaurant. A little later we were waiting to be brought to a table. The waitress approached us and smiled kindly. We knew the girl from the weeks we had been shopping in the Hat and she greeted us, in a genuine friendly way.

"What is the special today," I asked when we had a steaming cup of coffee in front of us. "Pulled pork, with Ceasar's salad," she told us. "That sounds great," I chuckled, no one serves pulled pork like Joe's. "You as well," the girl turned to my sweetie? "That would be too much," replied my dear, still with a severe drumming in her head. "Do me a Poutine, please." The girl froliced away and I announced that I would go to the washroom to freshen up.

I looked in the mirror while I ran the tap to wash my hands. I was satisfied with what I saw, I didn't look distinguished but well cared for. The water started to flow more and more slowly and eventually the tap dripped a little and then nothing came out anymore. I leaned forward, not understanding why the tap was open without water coming out.

A soft gurgling sound echoed from the tap. I stooped a bit more and received a huge shock when I heard voices from the tap. Squeezed votes but clear enough to make them out. "Get the bowl you retard," it sounded half screaming. Another voice cut right through it, "You want us to jerk your guts out, numb brain, get the bowl ." After that there was only crazy laughter. "Why don't you listen to good advice," the gravel voice in my asked, while I was clinging to the sink not to fall over. "Why are you in my head," I asked? "Because I needed a body," the rough gravel voice sounded, and a soft drumming  rumble began somewhere between my ears.

San Daniel 2020

also read part 27

07/02/2020 22:55

Reacties (0) 

Copyright © Tallsay.com. Alle rechten voorbehouden.
Door gebruik te maken van deze website geef je aan dat je onze Algemene voorwaarden en ons Privacy statement accepteert