I had a terrible dream last night; I was trying to walk out of my bedroom and i was in an apartment with two other people who were quite unconcerned by what was really happening; they were like dead souls, sad and tired, judging my moves like only the slaves of stupidity would do and here in the doorway stood the devil himself. 10 inches away from my face, his red and black head with his big ears. I stared at him for a while; I couldnt breathe. and I couldnt move. I wanted to leave the bedroom but he stood there not moving. I waited, breathless. I made sure I looked at him so I would remember what he looked like. So I would remember his features. Just like I always do. His features were blurred, the red of his skin was of dark old dead clogged red blood and his skin was an old dried leather, the sweat pouring out of his black pores dripped and his body was large. Nothing nice. Nothing nice. No fun. The lines in his leathered head had dug in like rivers of dirt. Nothing to laugh about. Nothing to be seduced by. His presence was a void , an unmovable void, with the aspects of solidity. His shoulders were wide and he wouldnt move. I could not get him to move. He said nothing. His eyes had no expression or actually they were like eyes that have cried many years and are still crying. Tears of immense pain , a body of pain. Under his eyes, the skin was puffed, his cheeks were thick , I could not see what he had looked like before. Before he had become this leathered man , this statue of hard skin. He stood there and said nothing. I could not move him. His body was wide. It was all darkness, I could see no way out. There was no future, no light at the end of any tunnel, a shadow had covered the Land, no more stars in the sky, no more dreams, no more hope, a black hole , a void that led nowhere, that hides you from the Source and pushes you back into your fears. I tried to breathe . I couldnt . I decided to wake up. I decided I did not want to see him. I called my heart and deeply dived into my own self begging to wake up. I woke up. I woke up and I was in that same room with that same feeling of unmovable evil surrounding me. I remembered his face. I lit a cigarette. I got up, cooked a dish and ate. I stared in the room waiting for an image to come that would make me smile. nothing came. I remembered how at the age of 15 I had made a clay sculpture at school of the devil with my eyes blindfolded. Everyone had been shocked because it looked like my father. My mother was shaking. She had said , yes , well he really does look like your father. It s disturbing. Vanessa why have you made a sculpture of the devil as being your father ? I didnt really know why. I never do. As I sat on my bed in that old room waking up from that mirage, as I pushed back the night with all my heart, and without erasing that image but gently moving my feet and recollecting myself, I made a prayer and mumbled some safe words and suddenly realized it was my father s birthday. It was the birthday of the one I carry the name of. Happy birthday. happy birthday to the man who was never a man. happy birthday to the man who chose to become a shadow. happy birthday to the small boy of flesh who grew up to becoming a leather mask , a dark night in my unlimited dreams; an obstacle to love and life. May you stay where you belong , in the jungle of my nightmares, may I never forget who you are and that it is real. May I never forget that I am not you. May I never forget that one day , you also were a child , you also had dreams, and a heart that beat in the wind, that you looked at the stars and that you are who you decided to become; as you said , as you always said, we make our choices. You made yours. May your birthday be as sour as the waters that carve your leathered face. may you meet one day a man and learn what a man is. You who never became a man and even less a father. And may from it all, may a tree of Myrrh grow strong and well and your leather go to where it belongs , with the leather of the world , and the flowers with the flowers and the birds with the birds. As a friend said one day , the shells go with the shells and the pebbles with the pebbles; May it stay that way. The devil came to visit me last night. I didnt kill him; you dont kill an optical illusion.
Posted on: Tue, 08 Apr 2014 05:51:34 +0000
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