Trifles

I had a dream and in it a woman sat across from me on a dark hickory table. Questions beyond answering glistened in her eyes. She laid cards across the table, never stealing her gaze away from me to eye their content. Instead, I surrender to curiosity and look upon them, completely enamored by the images that flashed before me.

The milestones.

Everything that ever happened to me that ever meant anything to me. I saw it all and felt the shock of 22 years of experience. The middle card sat yet unturned. The crimson art nouveau, I think it was crimson, scribble on the backface of it moved in sinuous turns and twists, and it began to glow. This card was important. As I lurched towards it, the woman grabbed my hand and in neither approval nor reproach, glared intensely into me, through me, and in her intensity she held me in rapture, barely able to contain the anticipation that coursed through my fingers to turn that card. And I did.

All I remember was black. And red and white. And it moved and it was scary. Was it the future? I don’t know. The woman disappeared and I couldn’t ask.

Ray Bradbury’s Martian Chronicles has quickly become one of my favorite books. From it, I draw this passage (I felt it relevant somehow, someway):

“If art was no more than a frustrated outflinging of desire, if religion was no more than self-delusion, what good was life?......... We were and still are a lost people…..At base, science is no more than an investigation of a miracle we can never explain, and art is an interpretation of that miracle.”

Peace and Love to all as I dig myself a deeper hole. This semester has been quite the mindfuck.

P.S. Here's a preview of an old comic revamped... hope to work on it this summer.