Waking Finnegan

“We are such stuff as dreams are made of, and our whole life is rounded with a sleep” ~ Shakespeare

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Location: zurich, Switzerland

Wednesday, December 22, 2004

December 22, 2004

Barbara Schnuriger runs out onto the sidewalk from inside an old clap-board house. The Victorian porch railing looks far too ornate to get along with the house's drab Presbyterian frown. I ask her what she's doing in San Francisco and she looks embarrassed about the question. She says she'd done something very bad and had to leave. I asked if she'd done something at the borse where she worked in Zuerich. She tells me, "No no no, it really doesn't matter Georgy boy, does it?"She takes my hand and says we've got to see the Wizard of Oz, and yanks me along the sidewalk forcefully. She twists my arm and I hear something in my elbow snap. But I feel nothing. She keeps yanking and I yell for her to let go but she won't. She sings with a very Swiss accent, "We're off to see the Wizard!"I want so badly to see the Tin Man--to hear his song about needing a heart. I know his story so well and I love him!" My arm is completely turned around now. She's skipping around on a lawn hillock with many other neigborhood clapboards--somewhat like Manchester row houses now, smaller and more wan-looking than before. I realize my arm has no feeling in it. It's prosthetic. I feel relieved it's not the horribly fake-looking putty-colored hardened synthetic type. This is strangely soft and realistic. Even my arm hairs are doing an excellent mime. I feel around the elbow joint where Barbara had cranked it, and notice a series of tiny embossed numbers. Below this series it says, "Call 511 in case of emergency". As I'm fumbling with the arm to get it back into place, I hear a clicking sound, like someone trying out a receiver. I hear voices, faintly. A party line. One of the women sounds very old and has a a gurgling phlegm cigarette hack. She says to the other woman "Do you hear that? I can hear the sound of OZ". I speak into the "phone" and bellow "I...AM...OZZZZ!". I look over to see if Barbara is laughing but she's gone. Two women are sitting in rocking chairs looking my way. One has a cigarette hanging out of her mouth and it's bobbing as she leans over saying something to the other one who's staring at me. But her eyes, they're too dark. Are they sockets? Oh my God. I look away and start running. The hacking one yells to me in a raspy Texas twang, "You'd better run mighty fast boy". I can hear them both cackling and begin looking desperately for Barbara.


Blogger Rainfall said...

hi ummm i was wondering was this real? and if soo where did it take place and Barbra? or whatever

5:28 AM  

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