Body full of bleeding holes (blend)

Last night was rough. After a very nice week together, amazingly cute dinners and patient walks through nearby parks, I nearly shattered my schizophrenic mom's reality but explaining to her that she felt better for a while after being admitted to a hospital and being given medication. She saw that, for a split moment, then recoiled very rapidly and became enraged. I betrayed her. How could I not see that the world is full of spies, mafiosi and invisible electronic gadgets that cause tremendous pain in her body? She started screaming at me and pacing around the flat, undoubtedly waking up all of our neighbors. That night I dreamed that my body was full of holes. Hundreds of tiny holes, spouting blood in steady streams. It would have been the death of me very quickly, if not for my friends. Out of the dark shadows of the dream, hands of my friends appeared, hundreds of them, and, one by one, plugged up my bleeding holes. And there I was. Standing up, propped up and plugged up by my friend's fingers, still alive and very grateful.

Cowboys and Aliens (Dream), January 24th, 2012

I had a pending meeting with my band mate Encanti.  Anxious to find him, I climbed up an old building, through antique staircases, old elevator shafts, all the way up to the roof top.  Things were already smelling a bit weird, I lost myself in a trail of thought as I was walking up the stairs, about my roommates' old apartment... which was more of a treehouse anyway, with a cute window and a giant branch outside one could use to escape in case of an emergency... But here I was, at the top of this 19th century skyscraper... And here's Encanti!
"You ready?" he says to me.
"Sure."
"Then JUMP."
I take his hand and jump off the building, no hesitation.  My stomach weightless, beyond butterflies, I cling to the side of the building trying to slow myself down by sliding and scream out a good 'ol "WOOOAAAAHHHHHH".  It was all getting a bit out of control and the ground was coming fast.  But I knew what to do.  I lean back further into the building to slow down and the wall turns rubbery.  My body bends into the wall, which is now soft and pliable, slowing me down rather smoothly, until I break through it.  Now I am falling (albeit much slower through the still rubbery surface) straight through the outer wall (legs outside the building but torso and head inside) knocking over tables, dressers, bowls of water, and thoroughly interrupting some family's TV time.  "Sorry!" I yelp as I whizz by them.
I hit the ground running.  "Get on the bus!" I yell out to Encanti.
"No, let's meet up later, I'll see you at the next stop", he retorts and we part ways.
I get on the bus and we hit the city streets feeling pretty good about everything.  I was in a safe place.  My bus driver was a giant, confidently smiling black man.  If I didn't know him better I would swear he was John Coffey from The Green Mile.  The bus itself was the size of a city block, with multiple buildings inside, a wrap around porch, staircases and much needed bullet proof glass.  You see, the thing you were not so far privy to is that the whole universe was at a state of constant war.  I am not sure what started it or why it was so widespread, maybe a rage infection, but here we were, in the middle of it all.  We were all just trying to escape this one city and find a safe patch of ground to settle down on. 
But, back to the war - to the left of the road was a river, and right across it hoards and hoards of space indians with all sorts of weapons.  To the right - was a gnarly city ghetto, populated with most badass armed-to-the-teeth thugs and, of course, the Red Army, which was temporarily on their side, shooting across the river at the indians.  It was definitely good that we were armored and massive as we were, since we were, somewhat unfortunately, placed immediately in the middle of the firefight.
My heart sped up a few bpm as bullets started being aimed at us.  The ghetto armies were now deciding, grinning ever so wickedly, to take over our armored bus.  We are almost out of the city when the bullets finally break through the windshield, striking right near my good friend John Coffey. Yet another bullet pierces the thick glass pane. Splat, ricochet, then quiet.  We crossed the city boundary and pulled to a stop.  I would assume that stopping meant that we were finally safe, but the look on John's face was the opposite.  He was genuinely scared for the first time.  He leaned over to me and whispered quietly "go up to your room, as quietly as possible, and do not make ANY noise NO MATTER WHAT".  I don't have to ask again.  I know the dangers are everywhere.  I quietly tip toe around the wrap around porch climbing up the stairs to go hide in my room, when I see someone, who looks like a bus tenant, a kindly looking white man in his 30s, dressed in a simple shirt and trousers, walking down the stairs from the top of the bus towards the exit.  I hesitate, squirming inside from not wanting to break my promise, but I can't bare to see this person get hurt so I warn him in hushed voice "Wait!  It's not safe there!".  He smiles warmly as he sees me.  "Thanks kindly.  What is your name?"  We engage in  pleasant soft chatter for a bit, then I notice a subtle twitch in his brow.  "What's on your mind?" I ask.  "Oh, nothing... I am just saying hello to my ex right now...  A big ol bus driver.  You haven't seen him, have you?" And that when I hear, roaring and loud as an earthquake "RUUUUNNNN".  The bus driver appears nearly torn to shreds by some invisible forcefield. "RUUUUNNN" he says again at me as the pleasant stranger now lifts off the ground, levitating a few inches off and clearly pulling the bus driver in with his way over 9000 force field.  "Well hello dear... long time no see!"
I want none of this domestic dispute.  I jump off right when the bus shatters off into hyperspace and land on a bridge between the Niagara Falls.  It's a big ol' antique metal bridge, perfectly capable of supporting the weight load of a few spaceships.  To the left, the war between Russians and Indians.  To the right, a nuclear scorched Canada.  And everywhere in between, an infinite number of moons and planets, each with their violent nonsensical conflict going on.  "Finding haven out there is a pretty difficult task, so I might as well sit here for a moment", I thought, settling down on the iron beams over the Niagara Falls.  After all, as my Belarusian mom has so keenly put it to me, "Sure there are plenty planets with plenty of weird things blowing up all over the place, but what good is that to you if you ain't none of those motherfuckers speak a word of English?"

Most Wanted (Dream), November 28th, 2011

I didn't know I was going to get into this paranoia.  But surprises tend to spring up on you once in a while, you know?  In the words of the great Kurt Vonnegut, so it goes...

I got adopted by nice American family - a cute girl with a loving father.  Had a bedroom of my own and a lovely loyal pet dog.  Things seemed as normal as can be - great family dinners, slight flirtations, good jokes and vast family home to explore with all sorts of hidden surprises.  Then I got a phone call from my already paranoid brother that flipped that whole thing upside down.

I will take a moment to explain the backstory, so that you, my wonderful reader, are not totally lost [snap to reality].  You see, I got political asylum in the U.S. in 1996, since I feared political and ethnic persecution upon returning to my home country of Belarus.  Since then I had repeated mysterious tragedies in my family.  My father was found in a puddle of blood in his apartment, dead.  Exactly a year later my mom found her brother in his room with his head bashed into a radiator.  Also dead.  Both cases were ruled "alcohol poisoning".  So it goes.  A never before seen son of my newly dead uncle have laid claims to our entire property and quickly burned it down.  So it goes.  My brother (who at the time lived in Poland) and I have conspired to buy my mom an apartment in Poland and move her there.  But right before, the stress of the entire thing has gotten to her and she was forcibly taken into a mental asylum by the Belarusian authorities.  She was later released and we successfully moved her to Poland, but the illness remained.  She imagined Belarusian special police units hiding everywhere, attempting assassination or just mental/physical torture through unknown to general public devices.  She is currently getting treatment, but her paranoia has started to seep into my brother, who recently called me to tell me about strange people following him or taking pictures of him.  But now [snap back to dream], his call was of a much different nature.  "Go to belarus.com," he tells me, "you are listed in the top 5 most wanted people by the Belarusian authorities."

This snapped me out of my dream-like life with my new adopted family.  Could this really be true?  With a heavy heart I checked the site and found my name.  "I am going to be assassinated next, without a doubt" I thought.  If the Soviets could get Trotsky in South America, the new KGB of Belarus could get me in America.  And sure enough, it all began.

Shadowy figures seeped out of street corners.  Glances, whispers, all headed in my direction.  More intentional movements indicated who my assassin was - a fit man in his 30s, overcoat, top hat, now headed towards me.  I disappeared into the house of my hosts, alarmingly warning them of what's about to happen through a phone call.  They weren't home, and even if they were, stalling the man might have been impossible.  In my room, alone with my dog, I decided to barricade myself in the basement.  Through a door, down the stairs, down another flight of stairs, through another door, through yet another door and... what?  A hidden courtyard revealed itself to me, filled with ferns, sunshine and bird noises.  Yet another door appeared.  As I walked through it, it's as if I entered a pre-Jurassic Narnia with my loyal dog.  An ancient forest engulfed me, tropical, warm, with massive trees and unknown to me creatures.  Hidden dangers lurked everywhere, yet the beauty of this new world overwhelmed me.  "This is better that what awaits me on the other side", I thought.  And sure that my hosts would know where I ended up and find a way to send me a message in due time, I departed on my new adventure.  Yet another place to seek refuge, wild, dangerous and utterly beautiful mother Earth embracing me.  I smiled and walked forth, to my new future.

Nature Telepathy (Dream), September 7, 2011

I wake up on a wet slab of granite from something scurrying over me. Yet another mouse is acting crazy. It seems that more and more the animals in this dungeon are losing their fear of humans. They've been running over me and nibbling my skin for a few days by now. And here's another one! And another! This is starting to hurt. One bite I can deal with, but what we have here is nearly a dozen mice, all trying to sink their teeth into me.
I scream out and flail, shaking the creatures off.

"What now?" - mutters a tall gray figure in the corner. My guard usually has very little to say, so I jump on this opportunity. "The mice are acting really weird," I explain, "It's almost as if they set out to, ow!, set out to drive us out of here or something... This is not normal." The guard would normally care less for my comforts, but by now the mice are starting to get to him as well, so he returns my worried look of concern back to me.

They seem to be swarming out of nowhere, and it's no longer just mice. Cockroaches, centipedes, spiders, small birds, even something that looked like a small fox - all descend on us from the shadows, to scratch, bite, run over, trample.

I think hard as I shake and shudder my way around the room. What could this mean? Where are these animals coming from? Why have they lost their fear? What is bothering them? And then I saw it... the way they were looking at me... it was Life itself driving us out, a consciousness larger than the sum of its parts, a little window to which I could see in each of their eyes. It was no longer detached and separate, I could feel this message as direct as the sun would look to your unobstructed stare, "You both must leave here now!"

My captor seemed to get the message loud and clear, without saying another word, he vanished behind the door, locking it behind. I had no way to exit.

I surrendered myself to the message that was being drilled into me by the animal wave, willing me to leave or be destroyed. "I was here first," it said, "you are not welcomed here. You are a virus. Dissolve." I understood the Spirit's thoughts and replied, somehow retaining my tranquility and surrender while being erased from this world, "I wish to leave, I am a captor here, I mean you no harm, I mean you no harm..."

Everyone stopped and looked into my eyes all at once, inquisitively. A second passed, the connection grew stronger until, nearly trembling with fullness, I could feel the Spirit-Voice inside my brain, searching, probing, filling. It was as if every thought I had was a cavity, now filled with series of pure tones, resonating and transmitting the imprints of my thought shapes back to the source.
Then, within moments, one by one, all animals scurried away, dissolving into shadows of the dungeon, exposing my bloodied up body. All but one.

In front of me was a coyote-sized dog, still peering into my eyes. "I am here," he thought and I understood him immediately.
"We must leave," the dog re-iterated as we both bubbled up and momentarily warped into nothing.

...I woke up from warm rain washing over me. Vast fields were as far as the eye could see. Thunderclouds and sky. Wet grass, feeling oddly soothing to my damaged skin. The healing has begun. I was free... Truly free.

The dog was still near me, peering inside my thoughts in a gently mischievous kind of way. "When you rest up, we will have some good adventures together," he thought to me, as I shed a tear of relief, lying underneath the vast warm cleansing sky. I was free.

Past realities, 1995 (Third Eye Blind)

I didn't believe my high school friend when he told me he found human skulls. It wasn't even that he seemed like the type to make things up. It wasn't even that it was that uncommon to find old World War II remains, scattered here or there throughout the farms and hills of Belarus. It was that he had claimed that the remains he found numbered in hundreds and were located in downtown Grodno, the city near which I grew up.

That was kind of strange.

"I've been trying to tell the authorities about this for a while" - he continued, undeterred by my disbelief. "No one seems to want to listen to me, but they have to - this is a discovery that could go into history books!"

This was also kind of strange. How hard was it, after all, to check up on such a simple claim as "hey, there's a skull sticking out from the pavement", even if a claim is coming from a 15 year old.

Andrei was right though. He was totally right.

The place he brought me to was located right next to the edge of the old historic part of downtown Grodno, up on a hill, filled with cobble stone paved streets and old brick buildings. The bottom of the hill held a winding dirt road, a creek and a small farmhouse, surrounded by a typical small farm fence, marking the boundaries of the farmer's property. I couldn't see anything at first, but as my eyes adjusted, I started noticing bone fragments sticking out from the eroding hill, here and there. Scanning the hill higher and higher I took in about a dozen remains just from standing on the road. We climbed up to get a better look at the remains, trying hard to avoid crunching human bones with our feet as we walked up to a place that seemed to concentrate them all. We picked up a few skulls and quickly noticed a consistent pattern. Each had a small round hole embedded in it. "Bullet holes" - Andrei explained - "They were probably Jews, executed by the Germans en-masse, then dumped here into this makeshift grave. It was probably just exposed by the recent rains - we should get the city authorities to do an excavation here, no?" I agreed and mentioned that we might have better luck if we bring back some evidence with us. I gingerly pried apart several jaws from the skulls and put them into a plastic bag and into my pocket.

Filled with investigative reporter's spirit, we hollered at the farmer at the bottom of the hill. "Hey, excuse us, but do you know that this hill is filled with human remains?" - we asked the farmer who was tending his garden. "Oh... yeah, that's old news," - he sighs - "I've been digging out skulls with my plow for years by now... I see them roll down the hill onto the road sometimes... The cars just drive over the bones till they turn into dust... I've mentioned it to the authorities, but they got other things to worry about now, I don't think they'll actually get to do anything here in a long time... bureaucracy does not move in a day." We nodded politely and departed to our homes.

I couldn't say I was surprised. I could say I was disappointed though. We were taught in school about the intrinsic value of each human life. We were taught that history mattered, that remembrance mattered. But life here seemed to be teaching me a very different lesson. Things matter only if people with money or power care. They certainly don't matter if no-name 15 year old boys care. Or an old farmer with a plow and a horse and a dilapidated house, - he also matters very little. People like them seem to only write history in beautifully crafted pioneer-adventurer stories, pushed on us in our Russian literature classes.

I fidgeted with the two human jaws for a few days, no longer feeling the courage to expose them to the adult world. I brought them back to the hill and squished them back into the skulls. They will probably just roll down to the road and get pulverized by the car tires in a few days. But so will the rest of the human history.

Dream, September 18th, 2009

I've had enough reality, so I had to escape into a safe place. As I slept through a tired 15 hour sleep, I have dreamt up my place of solace. It was a mountainous fall terrain, beautiful crisp air all around me. I was with a good friend, hiking through to our camping spot. As we were crossing the bridge, a group appeared. Their leader was dressed in a military uniform, he whispered in my ear as we passed - "hello Peter". I was thrown off, trying to recognize him. He seemed strange. Maybe dangerous. Maybe not. Strange for sure, and unexpected. I strained, but couldn't remember. The group disappeared. So did my friend though. I was alone. At least that's what I thought till I heard rustling and voices under the bridge. I jump down to a cement foundation under and see a couple. They were both friends of mine, having come along with me to this mountainous fall journey. She was a gorgeous, yet slightly aging woman, 35 or so, bare chested, with an older man holding her arms twisted behind, exposing her bare chest to me. They were both smiling intoxicating smiles, eyes of passion and agony, abandonment to the real. "I am going to get sacrificed tonight!" - she boasts to me. "You have the right to have that done to you" - I think to myself - "but I don't know if you're in the right state of mind to do that". I decide to find the strange military man, who recognized me on the bridge, to see if he could offer any clues to solving this mystery.

I dive into the river and swim ashore. Up on a hill, through foliage and trees, I see a big old building. There was some drama in there. I can sense the military presence. Smell of gunpowder smoke. Faint sounds of explosions in the distance and voices. Energies of scrambling and running away. Things were left strewn across the floor, as if someone left in a hurry. The military were about to meet me here again. This was the point of... ...well, could it be that I'm in the wrong place at the wrong time again? "I better get out" - I think, trying to take my message with me. I hear someone upstairs, but that's not it... I have some other purpose here. The house is starting to catch fire. The military were intent on destroying this place, I had to leave quick. I grab two boards and jump out as things creak and crumble behind me, slide down a steep, leaf-strewn trough in the side of the hill straight onto a camel's back.

"Hi mom." I'm in Poland, visiting mom's apartment my brother and I bought her. She is not well. But at least now she has guests over, she knows how to treat her guests, it makes her happier. My brother and I are over with some of our friends and relatives. There's chatter in the rooms, excited clanking of the dishes, laughter. Things quiet down and we depart into our individual quarters. I visit mom in her bedroom, listen to her latest bout of complaints. "They are here again, aren't they?" - she asks me. I pause, before encouraging her to continue. "The evil people, the whispers, the ones trying to kill us?" I collect myself for a moment, and with kindness and tears in my eyes say - "No, mom, you're safe. I don't hear them. I swear. I'm safe too. Mom... please... You should get checked out by a doctor... They might be able to make it stop - and you'll feel safe again... Trust me mom." She's never done this before this moment, but she hesitates... then nods in agreement. "You're right... I'll do it soon, I'm glad I'm safe."