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

Thursday, February 03, 2005

Skull City Dream


Strong sadness overwhelming with Mom in wearylook standing in her hospital gown much too hard to contemplate all this but 'it's real' and I know so because my aunts Yone and Lilly are wearing tandem grey-blue suits and not at all like them and I know in my mind these must be special for death. But they don't answer me when I ask about getting a second and third opinion--just deep pall of sadness and gloom. Dr. Shigekawa tells Mom she'd better 'make arrangements' and I'm stricken with deep grief knowing it's not true and that Mom seems so resigned to leaving everyone and I can't understand why cause I'm thinking about her steady handwriting and driving about town and I'm desperate to voice this but they don't hear me. Don't see me.

'SKULL CITY'--the name of the town I'm driving into--desert-dusted day-for-night black and white bleak like old 50's tv with rolling-around-by-themselves-tumble-weed-Saturday-night-channel-
11-Chiller-with-a-scare-the-shit-out-of-you Leave-it-to-Beaver-Cleaver-
kid-choppers-theme-song and now I'm mortified and have an anxious piss my pants get the hell outta here feeling and don't know what to do-do so keep driving and the car has hardly working breaks and I'm pumping them for fluid like those Long Beach derricks only faster but the car is going too slow for damage so I steer it down now dismal strange redbrick alleys and not at all like the tumble weed town anymore--but now the car's breaks work too well maybe because of too much pumping and gives the old FordBuickChrysler a lurch and no seatbelts on the long benchseat and I'm parked double and so barely enough room for others to pass and here comes one now-- I can't start it up to move outoftheway so I get out by climbing through the window with clothes catching and shoes greasing the upholstered bench and I start running while thinking 'Whose car was I driving?' I know it belongs to someone and now I'm thinking hard but unclearly as I head back towards the tv street--and then I vaguely remember it was Sal Mineo's, who somehow looked like he might have had Polynesian ancestors and is related to me because I do remember him from a long ago birthday party and then he was somehow my cousin--a child polynesian Sal Mineo so handsome with his jet black pomade Elvis hair and me admiring him even before he became a star.

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