It could have been that her strange and exotic colors and features could make him forget the family, the sons, the daughters and woman from before. The family that had been his, along with the mother and sister who were caught in a blood vengeance and began a conflict with another warrior leader who eventually conceded to his skills of warfare. After burning down his huts and women he was let to stay with the blood enemy when he had taken that leader’s right leg and arm and thus became the war leader by the victory of a battle that Raoul fought only to avenge his heart without the lust of power nor had it been for gain. For long after he felt a stone had replaced his heart and all will for life beyond except for anger. This was where the bitter coldness began within those vampire eyes. The breeding emptiness of life. Sometimes too much loss is more than one human life can take before turning into an empty living corpse
The first time he saw her that day at the market village, her strangeness was so otherworldly so as to make him believe she was an angel to distract him from the emptiness of living.....
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The first time I dreamed of the pirate with the vampire eyes, I have said, was when I had been very ill with mononucleosis
..... and it was one of those times when I had fallen into a deep sleep.
It is now many years ago since that first dream and over the years little by little more of the ‘story‘ has been filled in. Sometimes upon waking I recall more of that story, sometimes more of the dream gets remembered throughout a day when I don’t know that I dreamed that night
But what stands out the most are his eyes, the boat and the cold and icy land....
and too, the hut where he took me (that ‘her’, because I saw everything through her eyes)— to where most other memories are mixed; good and bad
Those ....have such a bittersweet....happy and very sad connection of emotions with inexplicable parts of my subconscious .... and how I mean this has to do with things I feel drawn to; places; cravings; longings.... and things that haunt me and interfere in my life in such strange and disturbing ways
When I first talked to Gerald about this; soon after the illness it was....
we were then working together at the bookstore outside of Hempstead in New York
but.... you know
I learned to chalk it up to part of life’s mysteries; like so many déjà vu’s
Sometimes years went by and I forgot all about them as well as the tall, blond warrior that haunted those scenes from dreams that lay indelibly in my deep subconsciousness
And then when I saw him that day....
Those memories flooded back —and it was the night before I saw Jörn in the penthouse lobby that I had the dream again after many years of dormancy; a foretelling it would seem.....
You see, as I have said, it was years ago, when I had been very ill with mononucleosis for six weeks at the time and I lost my job and so, had to give up my apartment on Long Island; forced to swallow pride and endure the humility of asking ‘my father’ for his allowing me to recover there where my parents lived; an unwanted guest and an unwanted situation
yet those first weeks were so submerged in the illness and the dreams that I did not at first notice much about my surroundings; submerged in fever dreams that flooded me for weeks
After my recovery I didn’t have time to think much about those dreams. My ‘father’ wanted me out of his home and I was tossed back into the turbulent sea of trying not to drown in the overpriced cost of living of New York.
“I walk alone I walk alone,” as Billy Joe Armstrong sings and me, like as a modern day Kerouac dharma, was paved on that broken road and as before and thereafter and evermore it seems
I don’t really care for the material world that my father represented; all his material values had long ago disgusted me; I embraced the life of a nineties grunge queen
But those broken wings don’t get you far, nor carry you forever; the broken bones from my attack took their toll
and maybe I forgot how to dream for awhile
Their first time together was on the beach enclosed in a rock cliff beneath where the water lapped up against the rocks and when she looked into his eyes and saw the soul within she did not fear the force of his passion
He was not what she had once imagined as a maiden growing up; that maiden dreaming of a man that may one day claim her
but she was no longer that maiden who had once held such dreams
She had witnessed her mother’s violent death and knowing that he was capable of knowing loss but also capable of fierce violence seemed to draw her.... compel her as something almost primal and with almost the same force of violence she had witnessed in him when he saved her twice; first from her father and then by the warrior from his ship
He was a strange man.... both twisted with anger but capable of a tenderness she had never imagined could exist from anyone
The weeks that followed the voyage on his boat with the other men altered her and perhaps both of them
as he would watch her constantly when they were at sea, she would turn to see him as the wind whipped back his hair from his face and the sea crashed around him; a new idea of a life formed in her mind and he was at the center of it
so that when the day did come where his boat pulled up to that frozen land, she wasn’t afraid to follow him to the hut, reached by a passage behind a kind of shrub or skeletal grove; a group of dense bushes and ....by then they knew that a child had begun to grow within
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