Tuesday, January 25, 2011

LET'S EAT

This evening I dozed off while reading "We Dickinsons" and awakened with the open book fallen over my face. What awakened me was a female visitor. She was very tall, very slender, very gentle, very pale and very quiet. How she entered I know not. She wore a soft pale green flowing garment. Her rather long reddish hair fell over her face as she bent over me and laid an incredibly long narrow hand across my diaphragm. For just one incredible moment she stayed. Then suddenly she stood upright, turned and left with the silence of a ghost.
On Dec 29, 2010 I dreamed I was standing in the snow at Wallis' house on tract 33, Cass Lake. I went inside. A pan of chicken parts was frying. The torso was frying in another pan and one pan had a pancake cooking in it. I went into the living room. Paul and Brenda E were there. Brenda was beading and Paul was cutting quilt blocks. They spoke but I couldn't hear them. I went into the bedroom looking for Wallis. No one was home. I asked Brenda who was cooking and a small voice behind me said, "I am." I turned to see Cedar in a long apron. She was holding a spatula. We returned to the kitchen. She flipped the flapjack expertly and I put the chicken torsion in the oven. Paul and Brenda left without speaking. I saw that the snow was gone and it had turned to spring. Cedar said, "The chicken smells good. Let's eat." So we sat down to enjoy the pancakes. I woke up very happy.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

THE SEVENTH GENERATION

He was standing in the hall when I opened the door. I recognized him at once. He had gone to high school with me in Cass Lake. He was dressed entirely in black and carried a small black book. He was not particularly friendly but he was cordial. "Have you been saved?" he asked. "Yes, I think so," I replied. "But you're not sure?" "I believe God is good and will take me to that good place when it's time to leave." "You believe but can you be certain that you're good enough?" "No, I'm sure no one is good enough but God is good enough." "If you don't know the time or place of your salvation then you are not saved." Immediately I was standing with that same person on a corner in Cass Lake in front of the old Deep Rock Oil Co. "Look!" he shouted, "this is where I was saved." Suddenly I was surrounded by a mob of people in black all holding their small books toward me and shouting, "I was saved right here!" In the next heartbeat I was in my flat with a woman I seemed to know but am unable to identify. She was very friendly and I was glad to see her. "You must come to the wake," she said. "Who died?" I asked. "The seventh generation." "What? All of them?" I gasped. I couldn't understand why she was so cheerful. "Yes. All of them. They want you to come to the wake and speak." I was devastated. "I cannot. What would I say?" "Oh, you must come and honor them. They have been speaking of you for seven years." Then I thought to myself, How can you refuse? The woman was holding a blue dress before me. "You must wear this. And you must cover it with this coat." The coat looked exactly like the dress except it was split up the front. "Put it on and come. They are waiting for you." I woke up with those clothes still hanging before me in the darkness of the flat. I was so troubled by the dream that I could not sleep. I got up and wrote it down as it seemed important. I felt that I had been told that I had failed the seventh generation. I had not spoken to them or for them until it was too late. Is it too late? I ask myself. What can I say? Do I have any particular obligation to these young people? What is my personal responsibility to them?

Saturday, January 15, 2011

A SUDDEN DISAPPEARANCE

It was just a dream but it left me strangely troubled. I was living in the Redd Shedd and opened the door to see teenaged grandson Justice working in the yard. He was trying to rake a pile of leaves into a garbage bag but the bag was blowing and closing. He really needed help. "I'll get my jacket and be right out to help you," I shouted. He smiled and waved a gloved hand. I pulled on my jacket and went out to find that he had disappeared. The bag and rake were on the ground near a pile of leaves but Justice was gone. I keep seeing his broad smile and I think he is sending me an 'I'm so happy' message from Canada. But to disappear so suddenly... that troubles me.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

A CLOSED SOCIETY

My dream began on a gray street under a gray sky. I was surrounded by gray buildings with ashen faced people in gray jackets, pants and hats milling around me. It seems I was a member of this gray society. But no one spoke to me. As I walked along I saw that we were sorting ourselves out and soon I was with a group going in one direction. We walked slowly and silently. Eventually we arrived at a large beautiful building. It was about 4 stories tall with 8 marble columns that went to the top. I thought it was a cultural center, library, museum, theater or orchestra hall. I sat down on the cold granite steps. We immediately assumed the same posture. We pulled our knees close to our chests and wrapped our arms around our legs. I was uncomfortable and asked if it was really necessary for us to sit in this manner. After furtive glances the man next to me told me it was not only the rule but he had found that it relieved hunger pangs. I realized then that I was indeed feeling very hungry. "When do we eat?" I asked. The man whispered, "In the morning and in the evening. No one gets sick because antibiotics are in the food. No one is nourished to excess. No one runs away." Everyone around us spoke in hushed voices. There must have been 1,000 of us crouched on the steps. We sounded like a nation of contented bees. I noticed there were no children and asked my new friend about that. He said, "Only certain people are allowed to breed. All the children are removed to the university at birth. They all get the same education and are never exposed to new ideas." "Surely they read books that contain new ideas," I offered. The man turned slightly to look directly into my face, "There are no books. Books are banned. Information is available only on the internet. Access is limited, censored and altered on the whim of authorities. Digital pages are purchased with a tzaiyu token." (I'm surprised that I could remember such a word upon awakening but I did. Spelling is phonetic.) He stared at me for a long intense moment and said, "You must be very careful. I know who you are. I know what you are." Then we all turned toward the sound of a siren as a black van pulled to the curb (there was no other traffic on the wide empty streets). Six people in black uniforms got out. Four were armed with guns, two carried clubs. The two with clubs hurried up the steps, grabbed a person in gray and dragged the person to the van. The person was questioned briefly then thrown into the van and carried away. I thought the person arrested in such a hasty manner must be a terrible criminal. Probably a pedophile. But my friend read my thoughts. In a sarcastic voice he told me, "That person was indeed a most despicable criminal. Not a child molester but a storyteller." He stared at me again and said, "Yes, they must be executed at once because they spread ideas and infect minds." Suddenly a group of about 100 police in black marched up the street and formed a line before the building. They were followed by four black vans. Some of the police had small lights that probed the gray nation. It selected those that required special attention. Those selected walked down to the line and pulled up their left sleeves for inspection. Most of them were sent back to their places but several were put into vans and taken away. No one resisted. No one intervened. I pulled up my left sleeve and looked at my arm. There was a tattoo. It consisted of 3 rows of numbers. My friend said, "The first row is your address. The second is your section and bed number. The third is your social security number. We are not allowed to travel because we will only receive food and shelter at this address."
Suddenly I was awake. I was trembling. I lay there for a long time contemplating my fate as a member of that closed society.

Saturday, January 1, 2011

THIS LOYAL BODY

Ht 5'3", 178#, 38.5". I opened the year 2011 by watching "Killer at Large". I learned that obesity is a crime against my body. I started my day with inadequate sleep. Six hours! I need more rest and less stress. For my own health I must get the sugar out and read labels. Breakfast: 3 boiled eggs, 2 slices of turkey, c of coffee with condensed milk. Found that coffee is not on the good food list. Research: coffee is not a food, it is more like a drug and affects metabolism. It is also a diuretic and not locally grown. It takes 1 qt of crude oil or 30 cubic feet of natural gas or 2.5 # of coal to process 1# of coffee. Research: microwave cooking was invented in Russia and is now banned there. From my journal, July 2009: Yes, I have betrayed my own body. This poor body that loves me. This time-ravaged body that has carried me to the mountain, to the sea, to the plains, to the rainforest. This old body that yearns for strawberries and cheese. After so many years of abuse this loyal body goes on loving me.