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taeleen
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starlight
35843
dream
over 20 years ago
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1510
What's going on here?

Wind chimes, chiming.
I walk down stairs to the living room of the house where I grew up.
Everything is gone, all except one green velvet couch along the back wall.
The wall behind the couch is lined with lengthy mirrors my Mother installed long ago.
Wind chimes, chiming.
Everything is very desaturated.
Colors are dull.
Kind of milky.
Insects sticking to honey wax strips.
Outside the sky is an eerie gray-blue.
Every time I looked out the window I felt like my eyes had been closed for hours.
Light adjustment.
New bright blue.
Born again.
Smell of Elmers.
There on the couch I see my Grandma.
Her name was Joyce Maxine Taylor.
I loved her.
She was so full of life.
She gave such strong looks when she had something on her mind.
Deep woman.
Woman of intelligence.
Full Irish and strong.
Not too feminine and a bit over weight.
Her forearms told such a story.
The way she used her hands was like clean laundry swaying in the wind.
Elegant, honest, there.
Unique texture.
--
This woman on the couch, It was her, It looked like her.
But it wasn't her at all.
She was dead in the eyes.
Lost in the face.
Imprisoned by something.
Unpleasant grace.
There was a projection of a flickering television screen on her body. . .
I could see the television glaring through her large glasses.
But there was no TV in front of her to be seen.
I was scared, standing it front of her saying, "Grandma? What's the matter? Are you okay?" I hear the static.
A sudden overly loud reply made me jump. . .
"Okay!? Okay as DAY!!"
"Okay!? Okay as DAY!!"
She said repeatedly.
Her voice began to echo.
It all felt kind of like a distorted Aronofsky film.
Eerie, jigged, warped, twisted, fast and then slow.
Jolting angles you don't see coming.
Weird views you wouldn't expect to be forced into seeing.
I was scared, standing in front of her.
She began to sway from right to left in a half circular motion laid back on the couch.
Still saying the same sentence over and over.
My attention is pulled away from her.
Though she continues, her voice is faint because I am now blocking it out.
I hear a crying in the back room behind her.
My old room.
Freaked out, I pass by her quickly.
"That's not my grandma, that's not her" - I keep telling myself.
The rooms are small.
This house was built in 53.
Wooden walls.
Wooden floors and doors.
I am standing at the door way and I see a crib in the corner.
I walk up to it and it is a little boy crying so sadly.
As soon as he sees me he tries to gather himself as best he can.
Breathing heavily from all the crying.
The feeling I get when I look down is - beauty.
I want to protect him.
Wind chimes, chiming.
I look out the window just above the crib.
I hear a winding up of a music box.
Sounds like the intro to Ozzy's "Mr. Tinkertrain"
"Where's that coming from?"
Click, click, clicking.
Suddenly it plays a shivering tune.
Still peering out the window, I see the wind form an oddly looking lengthy fellow.
He is off in the distance in the corner of my back yard . . .
Flickering like an old cartoon he flicker, ickers about.
"WHAT IS THAT??"
Chills all up and down my spine.
Dancing, he's dancing.
That thing, this man is wearing a suit.
A tux of some sort.
Pale white gloves, pale white face.
Jet black matted hair all over the place.
Somewhat like a scarier version of Edward scissor hands.
He twirls in circles.
Wobbly and rubber looking.
Flattened. He's wobbling towards me.
Dances around our child hood swing set.
Blood soaks through those white gloves of his.
Just at his finger tips.
"This is fucked!"
"WHAT THE FUCK!"
I was stuck staring, almost like he was hypnotizing me.
Wanted to look away.
Scared shitless.
He makes his way to the window pane.
Looks at me with these overly popped eyes.
Cracked with red veins.
Like Judge Doom in "Who Framed Roger Rabbit"
Black as death.
Such an evil, evil face.
With a grin of sin.
Smiling.
Dripping chin.
Who knew a smile could look so evil?
He was staring me dead in the eyes.
Just smiling and then not.
Smiling.
Not.
Smiling.
Not.
Very fast.
Lips were red, it wasn't make up.
His lips were ripped off.
When he smiled they cracked open.
Hundreds of tiny slits.
Leaking blood on his milk white chunky painted face.
Hie eye brows were thick rough black.
Also, thickly painted and gloppy textured.
I could see his eye sockets.
Soar looking red.
Wet and inflamed.
He's eyes shifted FAST ---
I screamed.
He was looking at the baby.
Drooling.
I broke from the seemingly spell . . .
Took the baby and ran fast as I could.
Out the room, past my rocking grandmother and out through the heavy front door.
Music box and wind chimes.
Heavy gusts of whistling winds.
Where is my dad?
Where has everyone gone?
Hair blowing in my face.
Baby is quiet.
Warm against my chest.
He's beautiful.
Sweet thing I will protect you.
Nothing will happen.
Nothing will hurt.
I am in a panic.
Where should I go?
What should I do?
Then. . .
Lynnzie!
My sister!!!
OH GOD MY OLDER SISTER!!!
She pulls up in a black Cadillac.
My sister who never drives.
"LEAVE THE CAR ON, HURRY!"
I say as I run down off the porch in a crazy leap.
Lynnzie's crying at the wheel.
Scared as I.
We don't know what's happening.
Everyones gone.
Tinker, tinker man.
Comes a dancin' along with the wind.
Wobble, wobble.
Flicker, flicker.
From back yard to front.
"Oh my god! GO! GO! GO!!!"
Lynnzie: "It's a manual I'm still getting used to it"
The gears seem stuck.
"OH GOD, OH GOD"
He's coming closer to us.
Finally with a fast jerk and a slam on the gas we are moving at last!
BUT WHAT'S THIS?
WAIT!
Slam on the brakes!
NO!
BUT SOMETHING is behind us!
I see it in the rear view.
It's a child!
A little girl!
Running and crying.
She's scared of the music box man.
Running, running she drops her little pretty pony horsey.
Like a child would she goes back for it.
She can't leave.
"STOP THE CAR, STOP, STOP!"
Ughhhh.
I run outside to get her.
As I am running closer it is my adorable brown eyed baby sister.
Beautiful as can be.
How can it be?
She is SO SO young.
I scoop down and whisp her up into my arms.
Her little voice makes my heart melt.
Precious beauty I got you.
We're running back but the wind is pulling me.
So hard to keep moving . . .
I'm losing strength . . .
Please, please . . . no.
You can do this, you gotta go!
Keep motivating myself.
Keep telling myself I am so strong.
Don't give up now.
Look at her.
She's just a baby.
Probably about 5.
Look at those eyes.
Little princess.
Shh.
Cry, cry, cry.

-----

Then I wake up.

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