Every Which Way

time and space    I was having a dream.  Unless what I was having was no dream.  Unless the stuff of dreams is more or less the same stuff as the other stuff, only mixed differently, prior to settling.  Like light, velocity, harmony, dissonance, echoes, reverberations.  Contradictions, too.  You know.  Stuff that’s out there whether you know it or not.  Or like it or not.  Stuff that does not depend upon the silly mechanical operations of human appendages to exist.  Or grandiose delusions.  But, I’m calling it a dream.  My dream.

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In this unlikely dream, both coming, and going, and often stuck, there were noun people and verb people.   Noun people were all excited about people, places, and things.  They intoned tunes, diddled doodles, proclaimed observations.  Took notes, too.

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Verb people were all about the pursuit.  They liked to race along dirt tracks with clear paths to follow.  And just do it.  And dig it while it was happening.

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On the fringes of this uncertain dream, I could hear a faint voice that was claiming against certifiable popular opinion that it all depends on how you look at it, but nobody credible believed that.  Everybody credible was standing on one side of an indivisible line.  Or the other.

battle lines

There was friction coming out of the ears from both sides of the line.  Coming out of noses, mouths, asses, and other available holes as well.  Many bodies, many holes.  Still, though, only one line.

The friction was a clear cut noun to the noun people, and an out and out verb to the verb people.  Neither side took kindly to tolerating any troublesome dissent or quibbling over it, either, although it was apparent that the verb people, who were hippest to the jive, were more able to just do it, and were winning.  En masse, they exclaimed, “Fucking A.”

Because it was so easy to just do it, without any requirement to know how, the noun people were worried that the verb people were not only winning, but taking over, wiping out nouns in the process and forcibly making them over into slaves of verbs. They worried until they were sick with worry.  They didn’t look so good like that.  Sickness was merely unbecoming as a noun but disgusting as a verb.  The verb people got to point fingers, roll around, and laugh.

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Upon awakening, and I’m not claiming to know how, I discovered that I too was laughing. Because I presumed I was alone,  I was not expecting a reply when I said, “Is this someone’s idea of a joke, or what?”

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I likely should have been surprised to see the tawny owl looking down at me, but I wasn’t. He said, “You human guys who think you so funny crack me up.”

“Was I holding something that was funny, did I say something to be funny, or just do it to be funny?”

“You just plain funny when you stretched out flat like that.”

“Isn’t there supposed to be a roof over my head that blocks your view down on me?”

“Don’t bother me. ”

“If it’s not you.  It must be me.”

“Ya think?”

“I just woke up. I’m not aware.”

“Ya think?”

“You’re laughing, aren’t you?”

“I’ma be laughing my ass off every time.  That’s me, not you.”

“If you’re not laughing is that still a verb?”

“I better never not be laughing.”

“Does this mean that you can see into my dreams?”

“I was tracking a good looking gray mouse that slipped inside your house.  I saw him shit all over.  You must have pissed him off because he was going out of his way.  These mice not as dim witted as they look.  And they carry a grudge a long time.  But they taste good like that.  Adds some bitter meat to the sweet.”

“I never knew, did I?”

“I do some of my widest awakening while I’m deepest asleep.  Ain’t no dream because they ain’t no dreams.  All they is, just is.”

I said, “Well I guess that settles it, then.”

“You was rolling over in that soft bed, showing off your soft ass, which is the biggest muscle on your human bodies. And what do y’all with it?”

“Is the right answer not much or nothing?”

“Ain’t no right when everybody’s wrong.”

“You sure it’s not the other way around?”

“What your joke is missing is a good punch line.”

“Do the mice know I’m on your side?”

“Hell, yeah.”

“I’m going to hold on to the belief it’s a dream.”

“But, it don’t matter ’cause I’ma keep laughing my ass off every which way.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Now, you right, too.”

“It’s not impossible.”

“Why don’t you put on that Bobby ‘Blue’ Bland tune I like?”

“Which one?”

“I Pity the Fool.”

“It’s hard to go wrong with a classic like that.”

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About marclevytoo

writer of fiction
This entry was posted in writing, wtf and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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