Monday, October 09, 2006

I'd rather be flying.....

I used to fly. At night. Suspended in fast forward, out of control.

I would lay awake in bed. Praying for peace. For sleep. For respite. And I would fight sleep, the only real get-away. "Keep your eyes open" "Keep singing, humming, thinking, wiggling your toes". And then I would feel it. God, I hated to feel it. The falling. Asleep at your toes. As if a thousand wasps had stung you. It hurt so bad and it crawled. Filthy little winged things chewing up your legs. Numbness. Taking over your body. And when I was totally encased in the vibrating, tingling," oh my God I have to leave this body"feeling, the body would leave me.

And begin to fly.

To bat really.

To zoom over the furniture furiously. Frantically zipping through the house, slapping walls, just skating the ceiling. Searching, searing desparately for a way out. Sometimes I would just fly faster and faster in endless lopsided figure 8's, nearly cracking my head on the fireplace mantle, bouncing vases off the coffee table. And sometimes I would leave. Find an open window. Soar into the night. Free. Fast.

And I would fly so high there would be no oxygen. And my lungs would expand until they felt like a leaded x-ray tank embedded in my chest. When my hair would wire out with energy and be alive, crawling, flapping at the sky. And I would fly over roads, and memories, and yet-to-be's, sometimes diving, nearly crashing onto crowded highways, headlights blinding me.

And then I would come home.
And crawl into my body.
And say a prayer.
"Oh, I'm done. It's over for tonight." "I can rest now".

And the humming would start again...........................................

I haven't flown in years now. I later learned it was a syndrome. Psychotic actually. Symptom of those out of control. Dreams they called them. Those that didn't fly......

I awoke with eyes cutting, eyeballs wide open, but glass, there must be glass in my eyes. I can't read the clock. The open doorframe is casting a shadow. And it's a monster. I sit upright. In my yesterday's clothes, I forget to breathe. The dog is growling. At the shadow. "Oh my God, what if she dies from eating crackers and cheese for two days. I have to look that up on the internet. Is it safe to feed Georgia Triscuts and cheese?" I listen. She's growling. She's living. Deja pounces on my forehead, running circles in the dark. She has no claws, my only one, so I know I am not bleeding. She runs in circles. " I fed them right? The cats. They still had food. " I listen. "Isadora, Tallulah?"

It's so dark. It's three A.M. I wander down the hall. What is Georgia growling at? And I remember. It's the hauntings.
I haven't paid the
phone billl
the car insurance
the second mortgage
the attorney's fees....

I'm being sued. You were perfectly fine. But what would your husband say when he found out the 14 year old station wagon that ran perfectly fine until you got bumped would be totalled and they would only give you 750.00 for your BESSIE? He would say sue her. For your teeth that you never bumped, but should have been crowned 20 years ago if you could afford to go to the dentist. Sue her!

"I've loved you for a million years". The voice. The blue eyes. His. Hers. The funeral. The not funeral. The "I'm trying to tell you something, wake up! and listen to me" messages I KNOW they are sending. "I can't understand you, I can't see you. God, can't you just stand in the drive way smoking cigarettes, sit at the kitchen table and TALK TO ME ANYMORE?"

I bop the coffee cup in the microwave. Hit 2 by instinct.

I'm up for the day.

11 comments:

skinnylittleblonde said...

Sleep in peace sweet sister...with one foot out of the covers and one under, with paper on the pillow beside you, with the light on & maybe the sound of the fan going...

skinnylittleblonde said...

ilysvm

Up All Night said...

Good Morning~ I hope today is filled with peace, good news & yellow butterflies & I hope last night you had a sweet escape from our sometimes harsh reality.
ILY

Orhan Kahn said...

Wow, just wow. The colours really give a great effect to your writing. I know I've mentioned this before but I really do enjoy it. Just a note-to-self, do not listen to Coldplay's The Scientist when reading your work, I get all emotional inside. But in a good way. People need to feel this more often.

Thanks for sharing.

singleton said...

SLB, thank you little one. The dust particles danced and I slept. A hard, cold, dreamless peace, awakening to a sheer curtain of October rain....
Orhan...Now I have to go hunt up The Scientist and get all emotional. Sometimes it does the body good. And the soul. Thanks.

Matt said...

I love flying in dreams. Usually, flying has to do w/ confidence, at least I've read. It's really hard to stay up sometimes.... I remember this female chasing me, some antagonizer, and I was flying pretty well so I just squeezed her breasts before flying off!

That was a good one. Yeah, flying is empowering.

lotusblossoms51 said...

Awwww... I had a 1985 Ford LTD station wagon named Bessie! Such a loyal car. I could swear she had a soul~ I decorated her in beautiful decals of lotus flowers, dragonflys, tie-dye, butterflys and native american indian shields etc... She always started no matter what. My kids and their friends called her "The Hippadrome." What a smooth ride~ Awww...such is the nature of sweet memories~ Hmmm I wonder where she is at right now and if she misses me~ I think yes :)

singleton said...

Matt...LOL! Hope she doesn't catch up with you in the friendly skies on another flight!

C...Of course she does! You gave her soul....And even if she's long gone to auto salvage heaven, little bits and pieces of her are still decorating the world....

Anne said...

There are different kinds of dreams, aren't there? And some aren't just dreams. Syndrome?? That's what they say to try to hide their ignorance, and keep from feeling small. Silly doctors.

What an amazing story. Thank you for that, my dear.

eric313 said...

Singleton
This is such a wonderful all around story. Poetic, haunting and beautifully told.

Figure eights and flight in the night.

You make me feel lucky to know you just by your writing and your art alone. Not to mention everything else about you. Your friends are proud of you, that's for sure.

Peace and more peace

singleton said...

anne...all these months, I had no idea you traveled to these pages, and yes, of course, they call it that.....anything they don't understand should require a support group and therapy of some kind! Silly folks, I was only flying! peace~love months later, my friend

eric...you found the eights....and now you know....
peace~love~prophecies