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An existential dream
11 years ago
General
I'm fairly sure no one will like this. I'm mostly just posting this for me.
Kinda based on a conversation I had and a daydream while driving to the office.
It’s dark in here. The stairwell winds down tightly, stairs leading me down deeper. A strange sweet hangs in the air, acrid and almost turns my stomach over. The blue silk tie swings from side to side, bound only to my neck hangs limply off me with each step down into the dark room. The stairs forgive the narrowness into a larger expanse, tables scattered around the room, and blue lights barely penetrate the depths of darkness and clouded by the wisps of artificial fog hanging in the air. Off to the right what looks like should be a bar, but things seem wrong, only a few bottles on shelves, instead it seems to be toys, treasures, knickknacks with outlined by a faint green almost enchanted light. There are a few others in the room, not many, they are hard to see who and what is here.
A white wolf walks up to me, snarling, his blue eyes filled with fire and anger as he approaches me. I briefly notice how he’s dressed, what looks like a pale set of combat fatigues that have years of color had stripped through bleaching, a blood red cloak draped around him. “You sniveling weakling, you dare show your face here?” he growls out as he throws a clean hook to my jaw. I saw the punch coming, almost as if it came in slow motion. With the old lessons still ingrained into my brain, an open palm hit to the arm, a step to the right, push down with thumb to tendon. It has been years since that’s ever come up. I slip behind the raging warrior and try to push my advantage, “Easy now, I’m not here to see you, I've got other business,” I say, trying to get level the situation, “Too bad” the wolf growls out before smacking me firmly in the nose with the back of his head, damn shame that didn't happen in slow-motion as well. I stagger to the side, balance is swept away and back meets the rough carpeted floor. I tighten up to brace for the coming kick I expect. Taking the paw to the midsection with practiced ease and grazing off at best only a bruise or two. The wolf wanders off, slipping back into a corner and hunkers down; nursing a glass of water watching and judging me; no one stops him, no punishment for his violence, and no recourse for his outburst.
A hand reaches down, offering to help me. He’s pale, covered in pitch black stripes and feline. I grasp his hand and is helped to be pulled back up. I’m taken back in awe of his strength and control. Looking in the tiger’s face, his eyes, is almost overwhelming. Blue eyes piercing through me, his expression solemn and quiet, “I forgive you for your violence. Let me help you to a seat at the bar,” guiding me over to a stool carefully, it is both strength and sadness in his care, before he withdraws away, without a word, moving to sit across from the wolf that had assailed me earlier. I can only imagine what they say to each other.
Fingers fish out what lead me here in the first place, it’s a 2 of clubs, with a note written on it. I wish I could read it again but the light is so dim it’s impossible, only scribbles. I place the card on the bar top before looking up and seeing a mirror behind the shelf. Somewhat happy to see no bruises on my muzzle, a fairly average looking canine, tan fur, broad shoulders, dressed as a typical American slaryman, blue silk tie, crisp white shirt, tan slacks. “Good to see me again” two voices speak out at the same time. I glance to the side and see him. Orange fur, brown stripes, larger stronger build, more childlike smile, I know this tiger. I try to speak as cleanly as I can, “Mr. McClaine, how good of you to keep me waiting”
“I wanted to make sure you could find this place.”
“Course I could so what do you want.”
“Only to reconcile”
“Reconcile with what, I thought we were good with how things left off”
“They left off just fine, thank you” I thought I was sitting in front of the bar, but strangely I find myself behind it, face to face with the feline. Pouring a pair of shots of dark amber fluid, the oaky astringency of the liquid giving a counterpoint to the smell of the fake fog. Gripping one of the glasses I take the shot as the feline mirrors my movement. It burns my senses, it roars down my throat like oaky lava. I wince briefly in good pain before looking him in the eyes, amber irises reflecting back in the denim pools.
The tiger reaches into his pocket of the blue coat that hung on his shoulders and pulled out a small tablet. Tapping it awake he props it on the bar, “We’ve come quite a ways, I think it’s about time to realize that well, we are the same.”
Images come to life on the screen, I recognize them instantly.
Blond bunny, zealous poodle, a calico girl… the tiger just flicks a finger, scrolling through everyone I’d ever cared for as a partner, as a love. He lingers on a few, and smirks, “Remember that kit?” stopping briefly on a red fox girl. I put paw on my chin and mutter, “Shame we never got to go to that concert, wonder what happened with her,” the tiger just shrugged and said, “Never called you back, drifted away into nothing.” He flicked again and it got stuck on a blue grey feline, he tried to swipe past, “I don’t know why it has been so hard to get past her” we said in unison before moving on.
“What’s the point of all this Tiger?”
“Just a reminder of depth, that you’re not just a single thought, you've had many that have loved, and influenced your life. Even if you’re alone, you have taken a journey, you stand on your own two paws.”
“So why are they here,” I point back to the wolf and white tiger, almost ashamed of them.
“They are who we were.”
“And them?” I point to a different corner, almost noticing them for the first time, a jackal who lost his left arm, and a strong lean looking panther with a wild smile and dark sunglasses in a crisp military uniform.
“They are the possible outcomes, but they aren't us. We are”
“Who am I?”
“Both the dingo and the tiger. A guy who’s lost a lot of dreams and a lot of love, but still has a lot in him.”
“Where do I go now…who knows….what do I …”
I’m startled awake in a cold sweat, jolting up and barking out and breathing heavily. I turn to my side, and see the empty bed. A pile of blankets beside me. Sighing out heavily. I walk over to the shelf and look at the things on it, all gifts from loved ones, a playing card with a lipstick kiss, a mix-tape, a book, and a plastic heart.
I walk into the bathroom, blue nightlight giving just enough light to see myself, my eyes blur for a moment, and I see both myself and the tiger in the mirror. No, it’s not two people.
It’s just me.
Kinda based on a conversation I had and a daydream while driving to the office.
It’s dark in here. The stairwell winds down tightly, stairs leading me down deeper. A strange sweet hangs in the air, acrid and almost turns my stomach over. The blue silk tie swings from side to side, bound only to my neck hangs limply off me with each step down into the dark room. The stairs forgive the narrowness into a larger expanse, tables scattered around the room, and blue lights barely penetrate the depths of darkness and clouded by the wisps of artificial fog hanging in the air. Off to the right what looks like should be a bar, but things seem wrong, only a few bottles on shelves, instead it seems to be toys, treasures, knickknacks with outlined by a faint green almost enchanted light. There are a few others in the room, not many, they are hard to see who and what is here.
A white wolf walks up to me, snarling, his blue eyes filled with fire and anger as he approaches me. I briefly notice how he’s dressed, what looks like a pale set of combat fatigues that have years of color had stripped through bleaching, a blood red cloak draped around him. “You sniveling weakling, you dare show your face here?” he growls out as he throws a clean hook to my jaw. I saw the punch coming, almost as if it came in slow motion. With the old lessons still ingrained into my brain, an open palm hit to the arm, a step to the right, push down with thumb to tendon. It has been years since that’s ever come up. I slip behind the raging warrior and try to push my advantage, “Easy now, I’m not here to see you, I've got other business,” I say, trying to get level the situation, “Too bad” the wolf growls out before smacking me firmly in the nose with the back of his head, damn shame that didn't happen in slow-motion as well. I stagger to the side, balance is swept away and back meets the rough carpeted floor. I tighten up to brace for the coming kick I expect. Taking the paw to the midsection with practiced ease and grazing off at best only a bruise or two. The wolf wanders off, slipping back into a corner and hunkers down; nursing a glass of water watching and judging me; no one stops him, no punishment for his violence, and no recourse for his outburst.
A hand reaches down, offering to help me. He’s pale, covered in pitch black stripes and feline. I grasp his hand and is helped to be pulled back up. I’m taken back in awe of his strength and control. Looking in the tiger’s face, his eyes, is almost overwhelming. Blue eyes piercing through me, his expression solemn and quiet, “I forgive you for your violence. Let me help you to a seat at the bar,” guiding me over to a stool carefully, it is both strength and sadness in his care, before he withdraws away, without a word, moving to sit across from the wolf that had assailed me earlier. I can only imagine what they say to each other.
Fingers fish out what lead me here in the first place, it’s a 2 of clubs, with a note written on it. I wish I could read it again but the light is so dim it’s impossible, only scribbles. I place the card on the bar top before looking up and seeing a mirror behind the shelf. Somewhat happy to see no bruises on my muzzle, a fairly average looking canine, tan fur, broad shoulders, dressed as a typical American slaryman, blue silk tie, crisp white shirt, tan slacks. “Good to see me again” two voices speak out at the same time. I glance to the side and see him. Orange fur, brown stripes, larger stronger build, more childlike smile, I know this tiger. I try to speak as cleanly as I can, “Mr. McClaine, how good of you to keep me waiting”
“I wanted to make sure you could find this place.”
“Course I could so what do you want.”
“Only to reconcile”
“Reconcile with what, I thought we were good with how things left off”
“They left off just fine, thank you” I thought I was sitting in front of the bar, but strangely I find myself behind it, face to face with the feline. Pouring a pair of shots of dark amber fluid, the oaky astringency of the liquid giving a counterpoint to the smell of the fake fog. Gripping one of the glasses I take the shot as the feline mirrors my movement. It burns my senses, it roars down my throat like oaky lava. I wince briefly in good pain before looking him in the eyes, amber irises reflecting back in the denim pools.
The tiger reaches into his pocket of the blue coat that hung on his shoulders and pulled out a small tablet. Tapping it awake he props it on the bar, “We’ve come quite a ways, I think it’s about time to realize that well, we are the same.”
Images come to life on the screen, I recognize them instantly.
Blond bunny, zealous poodle, a calico girl… the tiger just flicks a finger, scrolling through everyone I’d ever cared for as a partner, as a love. He lingers on a few, and smirks, “Remember that kit?” stopping briefly on a red fox girl. I put paw on my chin and mutter, “Shame we never got to go to that concert, wonder what happened with her,” the tiger just shrugged and said, “Never called you back, drifted away into nothing.” He flicked again and it got stuck on a blue grey feline, he tried to swipe past, “I don’t know why it has been so hard to get past her” we said in unison before moving on.
“What’s the point of all this Tiger?”
“Just a reminder of depth, that you’re not just a single thought, you've had many that have loved, and influenced your life. Even if you’re alone, you have taken a journey, you stand on your own two paws.”
“So why are they here,” I point back to the wolf and white tiger, almost ashamed of them.
“They are who we were.”
“And them?” I point to a different corner, almost noticing them for the first time, a jackal who lost his left arm, and a strong lean looking panther with a wild smile and dark sunglasses in a crisp military uniform.
“They are the possible outcomes, but they aren't us. We are”
“Who am I?”
“Both the dingo and the tiger. A guy who’s lost a lot of dreams and a lot of love, but still has a lot in him.”
“Where do I go now…who knows….what do I …”
I’m startled awake in a cold sweat, jolting up and barking out and breathing heavily. I turn to my side, and see the empty bed. A pile of blankets beside me. Sighing out heavily. I walk over to the shelf and look at the things on it, all gifts from loved ones, a playing card with a lipstick kiss, a mix-tape, a book, and a plastic heart.
I walk into the bathroom, blue nightlight giving just enough light to see myself, my eyes blur for a moment, and I see both myself and the tiger in the mirror. No, it’s not two people.
It’s just me.
