Unconscious Saturnalia: The Aegrisomnia
I. Wake the Sleep- The Mind Proclaims Mental Dominance
Ready as a bee attempting to contract what he desires, the stamen awaits me. Pollination is now my obligation; I accept it whole-heartedly. This day has gruesomely overused me and I am ready to grow outward into a stem. Petal by petal, I shall spread open and share my appeal. As one flower does to another, I will offer bloom and a more succulent allurement to this stagnate weed which ponders on impending sublime- when will it come? When will it reach me? It asks. False illusions that only one who truly desires them can make reality.
I will copulate and I will procreate. Yes indeed, pollination calls my duty. Yes indeed, offspring I will produce henceforth. Let the growth commence. The time to transfer the spores wealthy of knowledge into ones stamen of thought is now. It is my time now; boredom is such the cure for obsolete thoughts. I know what I must do. I just do not comprehend the steps that I must take to ensure closure on this brainless notion. I feel alone. Nonetheless, I have a job to do. Am I slurring in this drone-like state of blah?
Clarity will be upon you in a form so easily and commonly misunderstood. But it will be understood beneath this crystal clear dichotomy that divides what you believe and what you are told to believe. Yes, I will clarify. If you are still unclear, I will reiterate until you understand. Yes, you well of dirt; you oasis of sand; you’ve run yourself dry. Your wet and innate thoughts have been exposed and dried out by the Sun of Change. But I will replenish your supply of thoughts and emotions. I will restore your innate ability to exist. This state you call lucid is my playground-my sandbox-my realm. And I will, so thoughtfully, strengthen your opinionated cranial tissue. Every neuron will be at my command as I repair your dysfunctional reasoning of thought. You will thank me later. With paws, I will pounce on your superficial reality and claw away at the ghosts you have been taught to believe. For now, I am you. You are me. I govern your thoughts. And now, I make my own journey. I chart my own travels. I sit alone and ready to please me and only me. You lie down, and savor the ride. Taste it as you would a steak, and educate your taste buds in the same fashion through this evolution of knowledge. My seeds will imbed and conform themselves in your thoughts. I will ensure they cultivate you most wantonly. Let the eyes move all they want. They are closed and oblivious to my presence. This is my world. Let the pollination begin.
II. The Dreamer Capitulates- Response to the Mind
Dreamer: The pills don’t seize away this chronic meddle of yours. Why are you so stubborn? You encumber my head and saturate it with notions beyond which I am capable of understanding. I breathe and live within my own hindsight. Let me progress. You regress me. You favor yourself. And, furthermore you are the epitome of a vagrant- wandering freely through my head, and twisting my perceptions. I demand emancipation from your grasp. Or do I?
Mind: Speak to me in that manner?
Dearest Roommate,
You do not want me to emancipate you from my hold. Why, it’s not even a grasp? Consider yourself blessed to have me here with you. If I leave you, you will surely be of no use to yourself or anyone, for that matter. I surely would not want to be with you when you are in that deprived state. What with the tubes shoved harshly into your nostrils, the needles dancing on your skin and piercing away at their own content all merely to keep your books in order, so to say. With your eyes staring into space, “what are you looking at,” and drool drawing its line down from your mouth to your chest. No, I dread watching you in that condition. However, there are pro’s in this matter. They will provide you with your own room for a housing. More like a cell. Your own little cubical of horror with padded walls and bars on the windows, all for your protection, I suppose. Well, it’s not your average Five Star hotel I’m sure, but it is, after all, a roof over your empty head. Yes, surrender me, and you leave me no choice. I shall leave you. But you, my friend will most definitely be alone. What do you honestly have to complain about? The world is in your palms. Or would you prefer a putty stress ball with your new home, the asylum’s name on it? Squeeze to relieve, you don’t need me for that. I allow infinite time for you to use me and my space to your excel in your so called outer norm-this zoo of animals you call society! To the left we have the capitalists, who devour the land at the mention of money! And to the right we have the politicians who devour anything that comes into their path for sole recognition and display of power- these animals, such dirty and filthy beasts scouring the land and robbing it of all its wealth. And straight ahead, well, that space is empty and awaiting occupancy. No one gets ahead in your society. Behind you, the occupancy is too great to fathom. If I am a vagrant, then you are the epitome of a rapist. You use me, then leave me in a dark alley somewhere in your broken down matter you call a brain. Your entire life and society represent one great giant apathetic tumor! I offer you rebirth, spiritually, and you reciprocate with nothing more than incompetent idioms that accomplish nothing but display your impure soul. You reek of waste. Take heed to my advice. I will wrong you in no way. We Must co-exist. With that said, let me assist you in your weaknesses.
Sincerely,
Your Conscious
Dreamer: Fine! Grant me then the understanding and knowledge you offer me. Dispatch your faction of altered illusions into my blackened corners of instilled social norms and grant me freedom from their useless immoral values and policies.
III. The Return to Innocence- Mental Gestational Pre-Amble
Mind: Dreamer dream! With this, I give you my fruits of labor. Let the celestial journey begin!
Dreamer: I hear you now. The lights yell at me from above and the sky is black. These blue and white lights provide a blissful feeling of comfort. Is that you? Is that you calling my name? Why is your voice that of a child? The young girl giggling, is that you calling my name and giggling? The texture of your voice resembles that of innocence. I’ve never heard the sound of innocence, but it sounds familiar. As in sometime back in my younger years in a pure and untouched world. I cannot recall, but I feel the memory. Extend your hand out to me and pull me up towards you. I’m reaching out to you! My wrist hurts and bleeds; the redness drips off my skin and plunges into the blackness below. Then as fast as it disappears, it sprouts wings colored of white, flies back upwards to me, and flutters tauntingly at my face. These faceless red spheres; these drops of winged blood- my own oil that keeps my parts in commission, yell my name and giggle-all in the voices of children. I am engulfed in the laughter and sounds of children in the midst of play. Why do all in here possess that of a child’s voice? I feel the innocence all around me. A feeling I’ve not felt in a great while.
Now, mind, hurl your army towards me and fan my flame. Tame my heart and feed me your emotions. I thirst for your gifts. Give me the peace and solitude you owe me. Shall we depart now? Face my fears, but do not fear me. I hear you not, Mind. I fear you not either. Have you given up on me? All is black around me. My feet feel no ground. I feel the cool, damp, and moist air around me titillate every hair on my head, arms and legs. All is quiet. Where did innocence go? Where are the children’s voices? Where is my blood? Once again, this basket case is alone. It seems my nature to be alone. I am always alone. Stick me now with your forked happiness! I am your pig now and I lie here extended on your plate of sterling silver at your call! Now, at once, I order you to stuff the red apple of truth in my mouth-this opening which you consider the outlet of my mental miasma. I am calling out to you now!
So, I float here. I ponder now, and sweat roundly, yet deftly. I have as you can imagine, much experience in perspiration. Succumb to my pressures. Does it hurt when I use you? Does it make you cry when I dance for you during the day whilst in my daily activities? Do you feel me when I am nervous? I am alone and my voice echoes. Crawl on your hands and knees into the cracks of oblivion to my darkest reaches and evict the dim fools who reside there. Blackness, it seems, is now my port. It is my shrine. I lurk here. I wait. With no response, I wait.
IV. Opiate the Senses- Capitalism as a Human Deterrent
What’s happening? The innate thoughts in my head are metamorphisizing. The cocoon can no longer contain. My perceptions are no longer flowing in the direction of the streams. This regressed state seems to consume this world. My eyes are unfamiliar to this land. The clouds are gray and appear in sporadic patterns. They disappear and reappear in no set rhythm. Time is irrelevant here. In the background, the sky, I think, is completely black. The wind is furious and restless and brings forth the putrid smell of sulfur. In the foreground, I see a city. I can touch this city. But it still seems so far away. The city consists of cages. Large three story, no, five, six, ten, twenty story cages that resemble buildings! I reach to touch one of these cages. It is filled with people in business attire. They look at me in horror and gasp as I touch it no harder than the touch to a baby’s nose. The cages collapse and the destruction is great! The sounds of the crumbling and the screams of the people are bone chilling- men and women screaming as they plunge to their deaths. They are nothing here. They possess no value here. The building falls and I can see arms and legs waving frantically through the puffs of dust as the crippled cage disappears into a giant cloud of smoke which is quickly blown away by the carefree strong winds. My touch is destructive here. I hear laughter. I mean, it is that of all animal sounds, but I swear, it is laughter. Children covered in black coal dust are chanting and bowing piously to a giant and dead oak tree. The remnants of whatever leaves it once provided nourishment to are blowing away in the wind and resemble those of hundred dollar bills. The bark of this giant tree is peculiar as I notice that there are millions of silver termites not eating away at the bark itself. Rather, they are tugging and pulling metal currency from the bark’s slimy epidermis. And, once a coin is yanked loose, another one slowly protrudes from the deep, black and grimy pore from which the first was removed. They work diligently, but they crawl backwards from the tree onto, and then into the ground tugging along with them the coin. There are no holes in the ground; they simply go into the ground as it opens up for them in some coordinated manner of an organized operation. I assume this to be a graveyard for a once valued currency. Once this burial is complete, the ground opens once more and they crawl out of the ground and back up the tree in search for the next dead coin. I realize that I am witness to the annihilating of a long lost and worthless currency. As the insects work and move in all directions over the trees’ body, it gives the appearance of a giant snake slithering stealthily about. There is no monetary value here.
The black and dark crows rest on the braches of this dead tree and defecate on them as well. This resting perch for the dirtiest of birds!
The elephants are on strike and are demanding more peanuts. “Without the shells,” they scream. The gross animals raise their trunks violently and strike dumbfounded businessmen in black three-piece suits walking by. Briefcases filled with meticulously created briefs of moneymaking schemes break open and surrender all paperwork inside to the wind. The sheets fly away to some distant black cloud above. As I see the paper disappear into the cloud, it lets out a thunderous crash! Then out of the cloud, fine ash snows to the ground below. They are of no value in this world.
“More peanuts!” they continue to yell at the passerby’s. An older man wearing a bar-coded tag on his suit lugs four large buckets of peanuts. Sweat pours down his forehead and onto his brow. He places the buckets down at the feet of these great beasts. The peanuts are peeled! The elephants gormandize the nuts. One elephant notices the man is still uselessly standing there panting. The elephant looks upon the man with disgust and gives out a cry. He raises his head and swings his trunk at this defenseless man. The man raises his head with eyes full of terror, raises his arms up as a feeble guard, shuts his eyes and awaits the inevitable. With one quick elephant swing, the man’s body is severed in two. It quickly decomposes and is blown into the wind as dirt. Man has no value here. The largest of the elephants raises its beige and long tusks and screams out loud. All animals refrain from their activities and stand erect and at attention.
“The rise of the fall of these drowning once leaders retracts itself from the strands of time and offers its plunge into the infinite depths of oblivion. Their demise is of no importance to us!”
They all yell this in unison- the elephants, the crows, every animal existent throughout. I’d never heard the unappealing, high-pitched sound of a crows voice until now.
“Bless you,” I say to a torch-carrying lady walking by as she musters a soft and lame sneeze. She is embraced by chains and covered with bruises that you can see through the torn gown she wears. The torch is no longer flamed. And the pages of her book are torn out. She has the appearance of a woman who has just been maltreated. As she is escorted towards the city by a pack of Lions wearing black-gray armour, I can hear her mumbling,
“I feel helpless and useless now. I have been raped and stripped of my virtues and morals in public. I represent nothing now, and I have been betrayed and taken advantaged of. Now I am nothing more than animal fodder.”
As she walks past me, I see the gashes on her back and the bruises ever so dark. And, oh, how that will haunt me now and forever. Liberty has no value here either.
Feelings of mutual agreement now consume me with fear. But the paradox here is that I also fear loneliness. I loathe on this virtue immensely and fathom the meeting point of the two. There must be unity here. There must be room for co-existence. The ground is moist and my feet are stuck in this foundation of a sticky glue-like substance. On the surface, I see countless swirls- swirls of black and white as if the two colors were of glossy paint and thrown in together then mixed. The colors, themselves, have learned to live side by side. Black and White, of all colors have learned to coincide. Is this backwards? I see. It is backwards back in the box. The colors linked together by perfect harmonious locks. Like a chain, these two colors on the ground reveal their strength and desire to grab hold to each other for one united pull. One pull, one strength, one motive. Humans think this; I think this; We know, I think.
The stage has cleared, the animals gone, the people disappeared, and the filth is nowhere around. I sit here atop a rainbow now, and there is a silver body of water that resembles a large sea of mercury below me. Miles below me, I see my puny reflection with feet dangling. The clouds are now white and the sky is strikingly blue. What bliss! I’d never seen such a strong hue of blue! I sit here and reflect on what I’ve been witness to. It was all such unbearable truth. I sigh and wait. A vacuum sound sucking everything away from me now and once again, all is black. I wait afloat. My feet feel no ground.
V. Hawthorne’s Mind- Prejudice
Dreamer: This is not I. These are not my eyes. These are not my emotions. This is not my diary.
Diary: The squares in my head are red and the triangles are blue. To see you in the morning is to sip the dew. I feel splendid! It must be the sun emitting its wondrous rays upon my clean and pure skin. I must most sinfully and cowardly confess that I do regret not being there to watch the public condemnation of the three women guilty of their involvement and practicing of the occult. I truly regret being absent to the feeling of that damned breeze that carried the cries of those skinned witches. I also regret being absent to that wretched and foul stench that their black devils bowl of a cauldron gave forth as it was emptied out onto the fine Maryland soil. The bones; the flesh; this carnage of what was once to be a feast was exposed and slowly consumed by the dirt and leaves- our grounded saviors. While in the midst of it all, the owls in the trees above cried- WHO- as they wallowed in their sadness. The moon rose and calibrated its moves with accordance to the grievance consuming the night’s forest life. The peer’s cries could be heard above us in the skies late in the evening- the cries for their fallen sisters cursing out at our community. It was told to me by some courteous reference that the satyres miles below bowed their horned heads while their blood red tears trailed southward towards the labial canyons. Deep-throated hymns shook the caves as they roared together with the force of one thousand lions! Mercy to those who may have heard this most devilish sound. Mercy to those, indeed, who may have heard the corrupting sounds that will stain their once pure memories forever. Their tails were raised upwards north as if to scorn the heavens and vowing vengeance upon their fallen soldiers. They waited below the earths for their fallen sisters’ blood to seep through the soil and into their dark and sinister dwelling with their heads poised upwards. Wings of giant bats spread outward and arms as well with their mouths wide open as to welcome in the stained water. Drip by drip they stood poised, with tongues exposed outwards, ready for the funeral rite. And nay! Not one drop was wasted as these beasts of Hades swallowed every last drop! This news prompted me to reach for my virgin heart with my palms of mercy and scrounge blindly through my soul for the warmth. The warmth that comforts and heals me as will the warmth of the world I search for deep within my depraved soul. Blessed be that of the warmth that protects me from the temptations of the ill-fated demons that approach and taunt the weak in the height of the foggy evenings. Alas! I am one of the few, most gloriously gifted by the maker himself, with the power to coincide with great Mother Nature herself in a combined effort to ward off these impure ghouls of the night. Yes, blessed be that of the ecclesiastical scriptures which educate my soul through the words of our maker. Alas, with one hand on the glorious book and the other on my chest, I welcome this deep and powerful warmth.
Given to grace, consummated by decease, three succumbed to the repertoires of life’s puny but plentiful schemes. They said this:
“Oh howl ye upon the roves of thy neighbors homes and pounce like the cat after the mouse, return at once to your animal instincts for you will find ‘tis your salvation and guiding light. You will inherit the knowledge of discovering the ways of warding off your enemies- the insubordinates and their malicious acts upon thee!”
This made the pious gasp in dismay. The torches were lit; the summonses were issued; the knives were sharpened; and the three fell. Oh how I truly regret not being in attendance to witness it. Oh how I regret it so.
VI. The Mind and The Dreamer Commune- Rebirth
Dreamer: Let us not be prejudice to the good intentioned prophets who surpass our cranial abilities to advise us of preventative measures that we must take heed to in order to ensure long livelihood amongst ourselves. I gather now what the witches so rightfully meant. And it truly was a shame to see the innocent individuals punished for attempting to guide in the right direction. We fear that of which is unknown to us. We fear those who surpass us, yet mean no harm and merely choose to deliver us from our demise. We fear those who are not like us- different to our social norms. We crucify them as we take their constitutions and strip them of their god given rights to breathe and to speak out. How could I have been so clueless? How could I have been so naïve? I see it now Mind! It is clear to me now Mind! You have provided me ever so graciously with the bridge that will grant me a walkway across the river of moral boundaries and back to my innocence. How may I repay for such kind charity? I never thought it possible to encounter such strife and discord in this world. What must I do now? Teach me. How must I continue the legacy of this circle?
Mind: I am not your employee. You need not repay me with nothing more than your willingness to spread the musings. You can, however thank me. We are one now-a conglomerate entity. We have a parallel understanding now. We are whole. Now take heed- We are free. I have freed you from your corruptions. Apply now your newly learned values to your everyday life. Do not be quick to judge others and do not segregate. Do not strike down the voices that provide you with the knowledge and the truth. Do not become enslaved by your materialistic whims and desires. Instead, strive to attain your personal aspirations which now prove to be of higher stature than your superfluities. Pull as one. Chart your destiny. Tread onward now with the strength of a bear. Walk your new beaches welcoming the blue waters of the sea of knowledge. Drink from your newly replenished oasis. Offer the water from your full well to your thirsty peers. We are now full of glee. We can see clearly now. And we are us. And we are one. We co-exist now. I leave you now, dreamer. Only temporarily, but I will always be here. I will most certainly be here. And remember, without dreams, there is no reality.
VII. Der Schläfer Muss Erwacht….(The Sleeper Must Awake….)
Dreamer: I can see now.
Jaime R. Garcia Jr. 2002
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