There are people every where, and never a moment alone. I am always with someone, whether or not I wish to be, and that person is always too interested in what may happen in my future. They're all Indian; there is one woman with gifts like mine- much more mature and able to see clearly- and a few men and children. The woman has laid it all out in her mind and she knows what is ahead of me. <<Jim>> and I just want to sneak away and smoke; there are accidents where the weed is lit in an all too public place, and sometimes accidentally while I am in the house being directed to write down my dreams into a journal I am borrowing from the woman.
The dreams that I could not remember this week are now clearer in my mind. There is a house with young men- 16-20, who enjoy playing magic cards and watching movies. The way to their house is green, with tall trees whose branches hang low into the street of shiny, colourful and new cars. I don't remember the importance of going to the house, but I remember feeling I was hiding something, either with the boys or from them.
Different people want to help me. I am in a position where I know I need all the help I can get. However, it doesn't seem like anything anyone says to me is really that useful. The Indians have a similar behaviour to those in my apartment complex- the ones that tried to cut a raw frozen turkey in half on the floor with a rusted saw. I feel cynical. The medicine woman still speaks to me- what she says makes sense.
Outside, there is a dirty mattress and two men that keep coming back. One looks like the hitch hikers on the road to BC in a yellow raincoat. The other is dressed in black and green- he wears goggles that cover his face. Both men continuously come back; one of the Indians brought back a yellow tent that he had found in the woods and had not thought it belonged to anyone. Both men were under the belief that it was theirs and they wanted it back; it was all they had. Aggravated and annoyed by their repetitive appearances, I finally got up and told them to fuck off. "The tent has a giant hole in it anyways, it's completely useless, so just forget about it." I tell them honestly. They leave, sort of, part of them always stays there.
Our socks keep going missing in the living room that is also part of the front yard- carpet fades into yellowing grass. <<Jim>> and I end up smoking in a spiral staircase lined with cement. At the top of the stairs, comes down my brothers sisters, they are smiling and laughing, concerned and yet carefree. <<Jim>> lights up, and the smoke dissipates into the air, for a moment I am frightful that they will know what we are doing, but they never catch on, nor do they seem to care. They stop for a moment to say hello, and there is brief discussion of socks and the like that seem to be missing these days.
The Indian woman takes me away for a moment to tell me what will happen. The grass and trees around us are a much deeper green then they were before and I feel I can trust her. She asks me about the dream journal and I tell her I have written the dreams down. She tells me to also write this one down, it will be important. Finally she says "You are confused, you are holding on to the way of life you have right now because you feel comfortable. This is a lie. This life no longer suits you, and in that way you will not be happy." She points to <<Jim>> and laughs "I don't care if you need to break up with him, you can get back together later, but something needs to change. You need to shake things up, and kick up the dust that has been settling in around you in comfort."She turns and flips her raven hair before looking back at me- her eyes are so dark.
"He spoke to me. Steven says he can't see you, he can't hear you. He can see everyone else but you."
This makes sense to me, somewhat, because I cannot see or hear him either and I should be able to. That is one of my gifts, isn't it? To see the dead, to hear them, to know them- why can neither of us connect now? Were my gifts a lie, or am I simply too blocked to feel anything from the other side?
She says before waking me, "You need to kick the dust up. Change needs to happen." And I am reminded firmly to write this dream down once I wake. And so I do...
