I’m loving my walks. You can really work shit out during them. Its warm now, so its barefoot, halter and shorts. No one is around, even Freddie, so my writing has backed up. I’ll get to Freddie in a second but a little more on the walks. When I walk through the burned out forest, I have mixed emotions, sad but glad to see green coming up everywhere! It’s like rebirth and me too. I’ve begun working out seriously so am feeling strong. I don’t care anymore about it not being a feminine thing, strong is strong no matter. So usually my stride is strong, long and fast but after heavy dream nights, slow and reflective.
A second thought is about the last drop. There were two, one in front of the porch when I woke up and the second when I was watching the bad tv. It hit the roof, slid down and got stuck in the gutter. That one was the so called CROAK that you wear around your neck for warnings or vital information. Not using it yet because it reminds me how I'm living in a prison without walls, although there is, isn’t there? Me and my daily bread BUT I’m always grateful when I see the drop, wherever it lands.
Another thought, more like stuff coming together, was that during the absolutely worst of times like Dickens, I’m going to be absolutely the best of me! I’ve got everything I need to be the best me! I’ve got these energizing walks and since I’m getting the souped up version of the mix, have a gym, get dropped enough food, am raising the vegetables and can write on the solar laptop which really is only a word processor. I’ve got everything I need to be the best me! Except of course Bobby. And batteries.
The oh so wonderful thing is that a cat is hanging out, god knows where it came from. The drops are including outdated tuna now, so I’ve been feeding it to Fubar. Yup! Maybe its Bobby and he did always like tuna. The things we tell ourselves helps us get by, right! And it’s cool to yell ‘Here Fubar, Fubar.’ And just the presence of another life form, you can tell I'm excited, has changed everything! Which brings me to Freddie.
I went over again to see why he hasn’t been picking up the drafts in the mailbox or helping garden and same, crickets. I was bold and after knocking, stepped inside and slowly walked around looking for clues. I got the feeling that no one had lived there for a long time, maybe since the old couple. There was dust on the floor with no footprints, old people clothes, rust stains in the bathroom and a victrola in the bedroom with a stack of vinyl from the 60’s. A victrola! No Freddie, so he’d been lying to me. So where's he held up! So now he’s gone too! And right after I put Bobby's scribbled page of FEDDIE on the wall!
Everything I do gets a reaction as though I’m being spied on. In some ways this seems like a bad thing and others, a good thing. Bad because once I drew the freddie card, he was gone but good because when I wished I had company, the cat showed up, I found the pocket recorder beneath Bobbys underwear but no batteries and when my frustration with the antennae hit the roof, boom, crystal clear. But wishing or demanding doesn’t work all the time or only when it wants to for its own reasons. It may be God but I don’t think so or what Bobby used to call the eye in the sky.
All those dang satellites are snooping to watch how we’re surviving. The last time I was walking in the real woods, I stopped and screamed, ‘for the love of God, give me reception!’ That’s when I heard that laughter again just for a few second before it cut out, so I’ve decided to explore those woods on a non smokey day.
Of course, lol, it could be some damn kid playing a game getting to add things to my story as he racks up points. That’s what Bobby would have said. Sometimes he does what I ask and other times what he wants until his mother calls him to dinner complaining that he spends too much time with gaming and not enough time with his homework.
The good thing is that things are improving here and there. The drops are much better, especially with the addition of seeds, the tv coming in strong on one station and Fubar, a week later, now becoming tamer and eating like there’s no tomorrow! Ha! Smart cat! I was hoping he had a collar like the one in Men in Black but no such luck. But the way he looks at me, like he knows me.
The next writing from Bobby is close to ten days past the last. Now I’m thinking its not just the single word pages are clues but they’re inside these long hand written pages.
‘Dreams aren’t dreams anymore, they’re recollections from stored memory from a place that’s not mine. They’re not bad or scary but actually beautiful. The one that’s been going for a week now, every night picking up where the last one left off, is the bridge memory. Looking at it from land is awesome! Huge expanses of swinging bridge connected to enormous wooden odd pylons wreathed in plants sparkling with tiny lights, some hundreds of feet above the lushest exotic landscape I’ve ever seen anywhere.
Some dreams have flowers growing up, reaching amazing heights with intense shaped brilliant colored flutes with orange and purple tongues that curl whenever giant hummingbirds the color of a hallucinogenic rainbow whir hovering, dipping their long beaks into them and others that look like lilies, open wide, the oxygen rich scent rising from below so intoxicating with thousands of perfumed voices combined that trigger longing and desire of that what was lost to us to our peril once eons ago. It felt as though I could spend eternity there in breathtaking awe, never going down into it, always desiring more. I've asked for the recollection of a bridge walk. Am I ready?
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
