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The One – #10: City Secundus – Segment 4

The main character is dreaming again. Water is a relentless theme in this narrative, and so it is in this segment of Song 10.

Here is the fourth segment of Song 10:



Argose lies down beside me and I dream . . .

Diving deep and soundless, the sea’s weight 
presses on me like a massive stone
Hand over hand I grasp the anchor line
             down to the gray sea’s floor, the steel-linked rode
                        a forged weight sunk entirely in dim cold
At hull-crushing depth, I find the anchor
            a three-fingered hand clutching, dragging mud
My ship’s keel, suspended pale, floats above
Her rigging stands still under crypt-quiet air
at anchor, tethered under folded sail

My descent continues beneath sea floor
            I claw sea-sand as I dive down and down
            waves of the seabed – each crest solid ground
No compass point to begin the true tack
            sea-press on my chest
            sea-weight on my back

            waving long necks and slack mouths in the gloom 
But as I swim closer, it becomes clear – 
This is one body with three hideous heads
They all have long-haired strands trailing from beards
The blur of this sea-river’s shapes emerge
            waving long necks and slack mouths in the gloom 
But as I swim closer, it becomes clear – 
This is one body with three hideous heads
They all have long-haired strands trailing from beards
From one mouth a forked tongue hisses toward me
 “You are not safe
            don’t think
                        to be
Safety 
            is not for the likes
                        of thee
You have chosen
            a higher
path
that leads           
            deep into life that
                        does not last
Resolve
            as we do to live
                        just so
                                    
below eyes
            in solitude with your
                        kind

With that said, the gargantuan body
            walks heavily off into the sea’s shade
            three heads waving, chanting a glorious song
I stroke back to the grave- entrenched anchor
            sit cross-legged beside it, considering 
                        a three-headed message
            that I will surface bringing to light
But what to do with this that seems right?

Deep in dark waters
            anchored at sea
                        a singular journey -- a journey to me
Three thousand years of sailing for more
                        cradled in waves -- each crest a shore

            
With that, I fall to my side on Argose
            who snuffles awake pulling himself
                        from under my weight that pins him to ground
As I push myself up, the smell of dragon
            hangs near, pungent and true, from six nostrils 
                        investigating this creature that’s me
I know I’ve been with them, no matter how strange
            and for this encounter, I’m not the same
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My dog friend and I get up to our feet
            somewhat the better for the restless sleep
We follow our noses out to the street
            where we trudge along in hopes we will meet
                        a kind one who stops and sees our odd plight
                                    and who’s at least willing to help us find
                                    a place to sit down and have a warm meal
                                                but soon it is clear this is not to be
                                                and on our own we’ll see what we see

I choose the first dark tavern I come to
It smells of smoke and grease and something else
I take a seat at a corner table
where I observe the rectangular bar
an ancient altar raised in the center 
At the bar’s back left, two white-haired women
smoke hand-rolled cigarettes between fingers
One is sobbing and speaking angrily 
while the other woman nods agreement
A big-bellied bartender leans sideways 
against the bar’s inside edge, politely
listening to an intoxicated man.

On the wall, hangs a short list of hot meals
A thin young woman comes to my table
Dark hollows beneath her eyes stain her face
She asks me what meal I want – what to drink
The bartender clears out his throat loudly.  
The woman turns and nods to him, then says,
“Please, my boss wants to see your money first.”  
Her voice sounds tired and a little nervous.  
“Sure,” I say, “but why?” I show my money.  
“Do I look dishonest? Is it my dog?
I’ve never been mistrusted on first sight.  
What about me makes him so suspicious?”

She looks over my head to the wet street. 
“The dog is all right. No problem with it.
It’s a big town and drifters sometimes leave 
and ‘forget’ to pay their bill and cheat us”

“Do I look like a drifter to you then?” 
I say this lightly hinting at a smile 
but looking directly into her eyes.

“Well, yes.  You do.” she answers cautiously
Then she adds quickly, “but you’ve shown your coin 
so now the owner will be satisfied.”  
I shrug and tell her what I want.  She nods once 
hurries off obviously glad to go

What does she see in me that I do not?  
It occurs to me I’ve not seen myself 
except shadows and river-reflections
that stared back from the mirror’s rippling face.  

Now I am more than a little curious.
I stand and walk slowly around the room.  
I locate a mirror in an alcove 
I stand sideways to it and turn my head 
to stare at my own face – it’s much the same
but an odd, older stranger peers at me
No wonder the woman saw a drifter
My faded shirt wears tightly on my chest
My hair hangs long and uncombed. The cloth band
            I used to keep hair off my face barely
            restrains the nasty, tangled, sun-bleached mess.  
My eyes focused, hot-white points set in black pools 
like an unblinking reptile in dark waters 
watching for lurking enemies and prey.  

I decide I like this dangerous look 
but I smooth back my hair, run my fingers 
through it, and bind it as best I can
I return to my table, aware now 
what my eyes say that before they did not
 I feel young and strong and a little threatening
I know Hart would agree.


Background
This second city brings up more thoughts about strange places and lengthy travels, of being looked on as a suspicious stranger. Walking into new cities and situations does make one more adaptable, watchful, and wary – more aware in general. That’s the good news. Those who are less flexible and resilient find such new situations terrifying. Again, the background to this part of the narrative comes from my own traveling years. As a single woman, I had to especially wary and cautious. Every moment might bring danger, or at least surprise.

Interestingly, Hart’s name comes up at the end of this segment. Travels have a way of surfacing memories, especially about people once dear. Makes one wonder what the MC is considering about Hart – perhaps a lightness is emerging around Hart’s memory. I recall that when I was out and about during my corporate years, I often remembered my former husband with whom more than a little “friction” was present. Still, in those days of near solitude (clients don’t count; can’t get too close, says the “bosses”), remembrances of him grew warm and compassionate. Strange, the things travel can do.

In any case, the protagonist is now deep enough into the wanderings that they are becoming a way of living.

Exploration 1: What is the meaning of the dream that begins this segment? Specifically, why does the MC dream about water so much? Remember, with dreams there is no right answer, only personal interpretations.

Exploration 2: It would appear that the MC is in a ragged and unwashed state. How did that come about? What do you think of the profile of this character now that a transformation has occurred?

Exploration 3: Any chance you have figured out the time period this story takes place?






Comments

  1. The MC gets in touch with his/her true self in dreams; gets reminders about the true path.
    Drifters don’t care much about personal appearance. They have more pressing things to worry about.
    This yarn has a 19th century Dickensian feel about it.

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