Wednesday, November 1

In an urge to dive deeper, I discover that I'm standing in a puddle, with the water lapping at my ankles and my opinions bobbing on the surface as paper boats. Is this where I've been all along? Under the illusion that I meant something, that what I thought meant something? Or have I moved without noticing the different scenery, climate and amount of water at my feet? Towering buildings, so tall that they appear to touch at their very summits, cast a shadow like a dark cloak over the cityscape. This is not my home.
Picking up my boats, I take off along the foreign roads, past the unfamilar world, just hoping for a street sign, any sign, to tell me where I am.
"You are here!" a man shouts at me as I run by.
but where is here?
"Here is here!" yells another. My strides start to shorten with the suffocating clench of my lacking stamina.
useless words, yelled at a stranger, are they really as senseless as they seem?
"words are only useless to those who won't use them," whispers an old lady as i pass her.
"excuse me?" i ask, stunned, "are you inside my head or something?"
"well so are you, silly girl" she replies with a strange expression, as if i should have known better, "so much for your insight."
now an old lady is questioning my depth, isn't this grand. i start to walk away, hopefully to find some useful information.
"information is only useful to those who want to use it," she smiles at her own wit. "You wanted a deeper understanding, but that isn't knowledge, that's acceptance."
i turn around, eyeing the old lady. What does she want with me?
"i think it's more what you want with yourself"
"i am you, just with a little more experience" she chuckles
My eyebrows shoot up my forehead and my mouth opens at an incredible angle.
"Well obviously you haven't a clue what you want from your perspective yet, so you should wake up." the old lady mutters, rifling through her bag.
"But i am awake"
She chuckles again, pulling out a watering can from her bag that couldn't have possibly fitted inside it.
"i never knew when to listen to my elders, until a was one," she lets out an usual sound, what could almost be a melancholic laugh and then starts pour out the contents of the can.
The water sploshes at my feet, then persists to rise exponetially. The world around me fades and the old lady disappears with her watering can, but i can feel the water rising, entering my lungs. A splutter, a cough and only now, engulfed by the great mass of water do i realise that i am me, i am here and that a deep perspective is not always the best one to have, though one can still drown in a puddle. The last thoughts dim, the air is pushed out of my lungs, water gushes into my mouth and vision is leeched from my eyes...
Quite suddenly, completely unexpectedly, i feel air across my skin. Intense pain spreads across my chest as my ribcage is compressed again and again. Then something warm and soft touches my lips and a breath of comforting air is forced into my lungs. My eyes flicker and all the swallowed water accompanied with my stomach contents errupt from my throat and out into the open air, narrowly missing my saviour.
"Lovely" he smiles gently.
"sorry" I gurgle, vomit oozing from the corner of my mouth, the acidic taste torturing my tastebuds. I feel something wet inside my unwilingly clentched fist. Opening it I see one of my boats, torn and more drowned than i nearly was.
"Good to see you still have an opinion." the man whispers
I look at him in complete surprise and he just smiles, gets up and leaves without another word.
Watching him leave i wonder what I'm meant to do with this boat. Should I dry it off or just give up on it and fold another, better one? whatever i do, atleast i know i'm me and i'm here. where ever here is...


Blogger Indeterminacy said...

Your dream/vision/hallucination was entirely engrossing. I recently read some stories by Jorge Borges in which his young self encounters his older self. You captured a sense of the disturbing in your narrative.

" vision is leeched from my eyes..." is quite an expressive and visual statement.

9:14 pm, November 06, 2006  
Blogger Frances bo bancess said...

thanks indie. i'm intrigued by this Jorge Borges you speak of, maybe I'm a little sheltered to not of heard of him before. i think it's time for a google...

9:33 pm, November 06, 2006  
Blogger Stewart Sternberg said...

You are a wonderful writer. I was floored as I began reading this post:

In an urge to dive deeper, I discover that I'm standing in a puddle, with the water lapping at my ankles and my opinions bobbing on the surface as paper boats.

I loved that imagry. I read on and smiled at the remaining wordplay.

After finishing the post, I checked the profile. Age 17? I was floored.

You have an amazing future ahead of you as a writer. I look forward to reading more of your postings. Keep up the good work.

3:02 pm, November 11, 2006  
Blogger dusty said...

that made was very interesting reading. the parallels drawn are parallels.

10:13 pm, December 01, 2006  

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