What Wakes?

Engine sounds are what woke me quite abruptly this very early morning, just about three minutes past midnight and I was surprised to squint out the time and find that it wasn’t six or so as even though I’d hit the hay at 11:30, I’d somehow managed to slip into deep restorative sleep. What could it mean? And, kind of scary the way it seemed almost to tear through the walls of my bedroom, me with my ears full of foaming orange plugs and having such difficulty of late slowing my brain, my body, lately a flimsy, panty-hoe colored clothes trailing behind a racing spirit, a barely able cape in the wind.

And, then it did, the fire cracker growl of diesel truck to jump or get up the hill, woke all up again and I was in dialogue, making connections, figuring which to move to gather all, like pick-up-sticks in a mist of milky way along the black hole vortex of the dream I’d had the following night, in which I had to go in and rescue several little boys who’d fallen one after the other into and under a hole in the ice, one on top of each other and so on, the toddler bodies being deep frozen and slowed to almost death, bobbing out and under thick ice their bodies floating up and against clear suffocation, but I reached in and grabbed with my long arms, fished them out, each, one by one, pumped their hearts and lungs.

Photo Credit: Dino Reichmuth Video Credit: Lucky Penny Shop/youtube