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, February 23, 2005

Bellevue Avenue Dream


On that Bellevue Ave. again now bopping along the street with my buddies Danny Casados and Richard Chavez and they're kids still but I'm not---we're playing musical farts and Richard wins like always. Danny comes in second, and me last. 'It ain't fair', I'm thinking. 'They're Mexican and get to eat frijoles regularly and me with the Japanese food.'
But Richard asks me where I've been all these years and I'm wondering why they haven't aged any and I have. No answers---looking for the old duplex where we lived next door to Grandma. Can't find it. Things look strange. Too many apartments. Richard says he wants to 'scuff up' his new Levi jeans and so crawls around on the sidewalk while talking about what happened to our place. 'They bulldozed it 'cause of the infestation'. I ask, 'What infestation?' But he just crawls around in circles and doesn't give me a clue. Danny is gone. And where's that old guy who lived in the abandoned house on the corner? Mr. Dill? I never knew his real name. Like Boo from 'To Kill a Mockingbird'. A sad man living alone---no one---nothing. As I'm thinking about him (maybe partly awake) my mind takes in that I'm not a kid anymore and wondering what became of him. I know deep down he's dead and gone, but my kid's mind and the memory of him wants to know he's alive. I'm grappling with this and only notice that it's twilight and my mom's gonna be angry if I come home too late. But where's the house? Where's Richard?

Sometime later in the same dream but different place---in Bellevue Park where the old reservoir used to supply water to dried-up Angelinos below and I'm thinking about Chinatown and Noah Cross raking it in with Mulrway---WATER! There's tons of it below ground and I've known it all along. Why don't they tap it? The 90 year rains back when LaBrea creatures roamed here pouncing on one another like they still do today. It 's a vast and deep aquifer and it frightens me now knowing such a massive amount of water is below. The darkness. I'm imagining this will all erupt one day like a liquid Mt. Saint Helens---bursting forth and drowning everyone in the basin. It's a horrific but fascinating vision and I'm wondering why Hollywood moguls haven't ordered it filmed. I'm going over titles in my mind and then 'smack!', someone has hit a massive towering fly-ball from the practice field and I see it infinityhigh---it's coming towards me---but I lose sight and cover my head with my hands wincing---immobilized; too stupid to move like a deer-in-the-headlights. I have an epiphany and realize where the
term 'dumbstruck' originated. A whistling sound and then a loud 'thump' and the ball is half-buried in the hard-pan next to my leg. I try digging it out with my keys but it's fused like some meteorite, and it's hot.


3 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

I throughly enjoy these vignettes.Great job Finnegan.

2:23 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Thanks, anonymous!

7:04 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

I think Anonymous would be a cool first name. Maybe my next blog will have that.

7:06 AM  

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