Sunday, August 3, 2008
Wastelands of Eden
I was dreaming. The past and future were mixed with the present. I was a political hack working for FDR. I was deep underground in a bunker that was built for a reason I didn't understand.
The chambers of the underground complex were coded in symbolic paintings.
The Tree of Life painting was correct as it was a pear tree but they had the Tree of Knowledge all wrong.
I woke up but why was the Tree of Knowledge wrong? I rolled over and fell back asleep finding the dream again but I had fell into another lifetime deep in my trail of lives.
I was a caveman in the great ice age and I stood with my tribe on a mountain overlooking the Eden Valley. How could anything be so green? Then I was in front of the two holy trees on the mouth of the twin rivers. I ate from the Tree of Life with my tribe but the tall ones kept us from the crimson fruit of the giant tree. The twisting red fruit was fourteen hands long and as thick a man's leg. We watched another tribe eat the sweet fruit and they all died in their sleep.
I woke for a moment and fell into the dream as my head slammed against the steering wheel of my 1969 Mustang. I was in heaven and I cast myself out and fell with a shard of imagination.
I was a member of the tribe that ate the crimson fruit but it was the 1940's not the great ice age.
The future called me and I lived in a green pyramid and ate the crimson fruit for dinner.
I awoke from my dream for final time this day and my heart ached. War was the crimson fruit.