The first night trump was elected, I didn’t sleep at all and then I was in shock for two days. That 3rd night, I stayed at a friends house, Jim Hornsby. He's a close left wing liberal friend and poet who lets me stay at his house in City Heights when I need it. He was the first American I talked to about the election. It was a relief to vent everything I was feeling and listen to someone with similar feelings. I crashed sound asleep and woke up with back pain after a while like I often do. I stretched and moved around for a bit and laid back down. I closed my eyes and assimilated some of the days events that began to mix with symbols of my subconscious, the conversation with Jim, the election, street protests... riding my bicycle to a bar and having to fish something out from a space in the wall behind the bartender. I met a girl and was just going along with whatever she wanted. She was showing me up to her room on the ninth floor and as we turned off the stairs on the seventh floor for some kind of detour, I saw an old and well-known activist friend who I haven’t been able to communicate with lately round the stairs with two others helping him. He turned his head and his face was pale, sickly, yellow-green and his eyes were unfocused.
The people rushed him up the stairs so fast I couldn’t say anything to him but I gasped, “What’s wrong with him?!?” I chased after him but couldn’t find him. I saw some of the people who were with him who said he had been driven away so I caught some type of public transportation van to follow him. The van turned into a transport to take me and a young man to a particular destination. We got there and it was exactly like somewhere I’d been before in Baja on the ocean but we were in California on the same ocean, standing on a brick balcony. I looked out at the ocean and noticed it was quite tumultuous and a big black wave splashed up about 7 or 800 feet off shore. “What a weird storm.” I commented to my young friend who was also starting notice and as I finished my sentence we both noticed these white clumsy mechanical boxes with tentacles flying around… “DRONES!” we both shouted as we realized they were dropping bombs and ran to opposite sides of the porch deck to take cover. I was crouched down in an opening in the brick floor that had cover around it but not on top thinking I wasn't quite doing it right but strangely not caring too much. I was thinking, not scared at all, ‘this is normal for a lot of people in countries that we bomb.’ After a long while the bombing stopped and we both came out unscathed and a group of young people walked up. They were all people of color in their upper twenties early thirties. They were as american as me or anyone in their speech and mannerisms but none were white. They were asking each other what the bombing was about, why it happened and one of them asked, “Do you think it was because Trump just got elected?”
“Of course it was,” I butted in, “The world is reacting.”
We walked over to a docking ramp made of the same brick the patio in general was made of and a very white man in camouflage military garb drove up the ramp from a cargo ship and started to speak to us in a language that sounded like Russian but was just a little different. One of the youngsters knew the language and translated. The soldier was nice and courteous and said we needed to follow him. We walked along the brick board walk until we got to this really nice place. It was like a resort but nicer and it seemed like people lived there, like they never left. There was a young girl talking with some others standing by an olympic size pool, putting on her goggles and behind them was a huge sectioned off by glass walls dance club where people around the same age were having a great time. I remember a guy who seemed kind of separated and a little nervous asking a girl to dance and her accepting and them having fun and thanking each other at the end. I didn’t have much feeling or judgement about the place and was just kind of hanging out. Some Asian women came up to me and one of them started massaging my foot where I have an old injury that bugs me sometimes. It felt really good and after a few minutes she stopped and showed me a piece of paper with a list of time periods how much each costs and then it hit me, this is a scam. “No I don’t want this…” I told her in an almost offended tone. I walked away and leaned over to grab something from a couch and felt this sharp needle in my butt. I stood and turned and saw a guy with the needle in his hand. I started to feel woozy and thought I was about to pass out but still had my wits about me somewhat.
I can’t remember what I said or if I just gave him an annoyed look.
“Here is the list of what each dosis costs,” showing me a list similar to the one the foot masseuse showed me.
“Get out of here, what the hell are you doing?” my adrenaline overpowering the drowsiness, my tone, my attitude, and even my accent going back to my New York roots.
“Well, you don’t have to buy any if you don’t want to.”
I got the same feeling I get when I deal with Border Patrol how they manipulate the situation to try to paint me as the aggressor.
“What do you mean I don’t have to, you just shot me in the ass…” I turned my back and waved him away, “Get the fuck outta here.”
Light came in the window and woke me from the dream.
The people rushed him up the stairs so fast I couldn’t say anything to him but I gasped, “What’s wrong with him?!?” I chased after him but couldn’t find him. I saw some of the people who were with him who said he had been driven away so I caught some type of public transportation van to follow him. The van turned into a transport to take me and a young man to a particular destination. We got there and it was exactly like somewhere I’d been before in Baja on the ocean but we were in California on the same ocean, standing on a brick balcony. I looked out at the ocean and noticed it was quite tumultuous and a big black wave splashed up about 7 or 800 feet off shore. “What a weird storm.” I commented to my young friend who was also starting notice and as I finished my sentence we both noticed these white clumsy mechanical boxes with tentacles flying around… “DRONES!” we both shouted as we realized they were dropping bombs and ran to opposite sides of the porch deck to take cover. I was crouched down in an opening in the brick floor that had cover around it but not on top thinking I wasn't quite doing it right but strangely not caring too much. I was thinking, not scared at all, ‘this is normal for a lot of people in countries that we bomb.’ After a long while the bombing stopped and we both came out unscathed and a group of young people walked up. They were all people of color in their upper twenties early thirties. They were as american as me or anyone in their speech and mannerisms but none were white. They were asking each other what the bombing was about, why it happened and one of them asked, “Do you think it was because Trump just got elected?”
“Of course it was,” I butted in, “The world is reacting.”
We walked over to a docking ramp made of the same brick the patio in general was made of and a very white man in camouflage military garb drove up the ramp from a cargo ship and started to speak to us in a language that sounded like Russian but was just a little different. One of the youngsters knew the language and translated. The soldier was nice and courteous and said we needed to follow him. We walked along the brick board walk until we got to this really nice place. It was like a resort but nicer and it seemed like people lived there, like they never left. There was a young girl talking with some others standing by an olympic size pool, putting on her goggles and behind them was a huge sectioned off by glass walls dance club where people around the same age were having a great time. I remember a guy who seemed kind of separated and a little nervous asking a girl to dance and her accepting and them having fun and thanking each other at the end. I didn’t have much feeling or judgement about the place and was just kind of hanging out. Some Asian women came up to me and one of them started massaging my foot where I have an old injury that bugs me sometimes. It felt really good and after a few minutes she stopped and showed me a piece of paper with a list of time periods how much each costs and then it hit me, this is a scam. “No I don’t want this…” I told her in an almost offended tone. I walked away and leaned over to grab something from a couch and felt this sharp needle in my butt. I stood and turned and saw a guy with the needle in his hand. I started to feel woozy and thought I was about to pass out but still had my wits about me somewhat.
I can’t remember what I said or if I just gave him an annoyed look.
“Here is the list of what each dosis costs,” showing me a list similar to the one the foot masseuse showed me.
“Get out of here, what the hell are you doing?” my adrenaline overpowering the drowsiness, my tone, my attitude, and even my accent going back to my New York roots.
“Well, you don’t have to buy any if you don’t want to.”
I got the same feeling I get when I deal with Border Patrol how they manipulate the situation to try to paint me as the aggressor.
“What do you mean I don’t have to, you just shot me in the ass…” I turned my back and waved him away, “Get the fuck outta here.”
Light came in the window and woke me from the dream.
No comments:
Post a Comment