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AUGUST 1ST, 1997, CIRCLE OF THE DREAM SHATTERER
It was only after I had found out who my enemies were, that I realised that my journey had been headed towards my own murder, for everything in my life had added up to meeting him, it was as though my parents were the beginning of a circle that I traced, and when I finally got back to them he was standing in their place, there was this sense of completion, of never being alone in the universe and of every thing I had ever wanted, the price to pay for this was immense suffering, for he soon tried to kill me in the way that they had tried, whilst I slept in his arms breathing like a child he was patiently planning my demise, they had taken my childhood and now he turned to me with his psychotic intellect and said, 'I had your part of your life, you will be damaged from the inside out, old and used up and no other man will want you,' it was true that he had tried to gobble them all up, but I had escaped from his dry smoke filled thoughs, it was true that he had injected me with hate and that I went back for more, but this was only temporary, once I escaped him with the knife in my back that he had placed there, it was as though I had turned a huge corner, I wondered if this corner wasn't as yet part of a greater circle again, but I knew that the corner I had turned had been so gigantic, that when I arrived at the beginning again, he would not be there and neither would they, I hoped that that small circle of illusion that I had followed was over, and this greater circle was now the real thing that I could travel on until the rest of my life occurred, I hoped that when the circle closed that I was complete, and that it would be like great arms of love wrapping themselves around me, for as a child my drunken father had implanted a scar between my eyes that gave me that rough beaten up look, no matter what the dress code or the sorrow, and now my dream shatterer said that he would cut my face up with a knife so that no other man would ever want me, and that having got all he could out of me, when I was bleeding with my face in pieces and with a soul to reflect my face, he would move on to the next woman, he must have thought that he was suddenly powerful and immortal, the strength of his own hatred had allowed him to writhe up out of his weak little body drowning on emphasema to hiss at me, whenever I turned back from the corner I knew I had gone around, I knew that I would see his grave, I knew that he would die before me and that I would go and spit on it, but I didn't, in some ways I've waited for the day that I would spit on the dirt of his grave, because it didn't take up that much energy inside me, it just rested there like an old spade in the sun leaning against my insides, knowing that one day the time would be right to visit his death and spit down onto it, by the time I was thirty one I had shattered all of my dreams and had lived through all of my nightmares, every nightmare I had ever had manifested in the real world by this time, this created in me a degree of fearlessness, because having lost it all and faced it all, there was nothing more I could lose and nothing more I could face, in comparison to what had gone before, except my own physical death, driving around Australia was another huge breakage, so the black marking pen I used to trace the entire map, so the roads we had driven along became dark cracks in the country, Australia that was shaped like my own heart, for the more I saw of the world the more it did not live up to my expectations, the more annihilation and suffering occurred and the only joy amongst it was thin threads or dream lines that I found the courage to hang on to, every dream of travel and every dream of recognition or love were all shattered, they all broke into tiny pieces until there was nothing left of me, and all my nightmares came to life before my eyes, until I had to pinch my own cheeks to make sure I wasn't asleep, but I couldn't be more awake, it was when I woke up that the nightmares really began. |
