Drifting, Discovering the Undertow, then Finding Release

From my journal, July 25, 1986, A.D.:

Another disturbing dream. . .

We came in our yacht, unto an island, small and pleasant.  Other islands lay beyond.  This was our glory.  We came unto an island at the bottom of the earth.  It was warm, it was wet, it was so wonderful!  Many people came and converged upon that island.  We had bubbly bubbly champagne.  and herbs of wild and rich aromas.  And opium that smelled like grape bubble gum.  Tropica - oh, tropical dream!  Where freedom lies!  Where comfort lies!  Oh, land so small!  Oh, sun so near!  How can it be so good?  No drug can last forever!  No sleep can be eternal!  Aye! - there's the rub!  For in this sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause. . .  That undiscovered country from who's born, no traveler returns, puzzles the will. . .

Suicide.  Suicide, suicide, suicide.  Why?  I fear death.  But suicide, I find very sweet, indeed.

I have wondered for quite some time, now, what the vision is and whether or not it is such a good thing.  It feels very evil.  It makes me dream of death so fearsome that I am afraid of life.  It wants me with it inside the world of dreams.  It hates me for having fallen in love.  It doesn't want to be shared with anyone or anything.  It hates my world of reality.

And I can't help thinking that it was the drugs.  They brought me to the vision - each time stronger.  They showed me the incredible shakiness of reality.  And ever since the mushrooms, I have been sure that I am possessed.

I am very frightened.  I'm so frightened that I would plead with myself to become a Christian.  But my faith is only in myself.  My fear is strong.  I must fight, fight for my life!

This isn't the first time.  But the fear is more real than anything I've ever felt before.

I HAVE ALWAYS TRUSTED THE VISION.  I don't want to abandon it for sanity or for love or for happiness.  BUT FOR MY LIFE, I have to fight it if I'm going to keep it.  If I love A., I will fight it.

It will show me what it showed Dali, Hesse, Pirsig, Plath, Burroughs, Escher, Lennon and Waters.

Ahead for me is to find out if I can leash the monster for my own purposes - or if it will kill me like it killed the women poets.  Perhaps the vision is particularly harsh on women.  

If I can only remember one thing:  I AM NOT ALONE.

A. and I have to bring each other higher - I don't know how, but we must be, feel, do so much more.  We must love everything.  We must love so strongly that the only path is up.  No hate.  No hate at all.

I MUST HANDLE THIS VISION.  IT WILL NOT BE SO HARSH ON ME.

- Sharon

Next entry, Aug. 13, 1986, A.D.

[based on another dream]

I killed it, Babe.  I won't go to bed crying.  It was only a spider - only a spider, with a belly full of poison.  I killed it, Babe.  It was nothing at all.  And now, all I've got is hindsight and an analytical mind.

- Sharon

A Very Curious Random List

I have no idea what this is about:

This is a Documentary

This is a Documentary

that says

I'm a lucky sleestack

and a trenchcoat full of lies

I'm a brisk and sun-dappled,

persuasively mellow, 

Hitchcock heroin

sun-bunny

and I'm alive!

This is a Documentary

that says,

Yes, I know I've got the vision

inside of me

Yes, I know that I will marry

my dreams

But you know,

it's not always so good --

I've got nicotine fingers

and weary eyes

the vision gives me

a bad dream or two

I love,

and I am forced to make a

life decision

I love,

but still, I lose

but

This is a Documentary

that says,

I will survive.

- May 18, 1986, A.D.

Poetry: 100% Pure Beef (or Vice-Versa)

Someday soon, I hope to become

that soft piece of rubber

with a Taoist look

and bounce

and bounce.

I am ready to take the first bite

of my quarter-pounder

I am ready to begin.

I'll take the low, low road,

but I'll get there, to the dinner party

eventually.

I'm doing it --

I'm taking the bite

"How is it?"

"Well done."

Why, thank you.

- April 25, 1986, A.D.

Change Your Fate

It's fate, that's all --

my usual state

It has to happen

It has to hurt, too

But you can turn it around

I always do.

Why, this feels perfectly right for me

A melodrama, meant to be

You can do it, and you should --

Turn the bad around to good

Turn the arrow, facing up

The sky's the limit

Come with me.

You need some pain

Come on, don't deny it

You need some fate

Just look at me

Don't I look good in my agony?

Don't I glow against the gray?

You can do it, start today

I'll conjure pain enough

to share.

It's fate, that's all

You know, destiny

And with my help, you can have some, too

But you can turn it to good --

I always do.

- April 25, 1986, A.D.

Deep

And now, would you like to go a little bit deeper?

          I didn't even know it was this deep

And now, would you like to go a little bit deeper?

          I had no idea that it could be this deep

And now, would you like to go a little bit deeper?

          How could I have known that it was this deep?

And now, would you like to go a little bit deeper?

          How could I have ever known that it would go this far?

And now, would you like to go a little bit deeper?

          O, god, how much further could it go?

And now, would you like to go a little bit deeper?

          O, god, please - NO!

And now?. . .

- March 29, 1986, A.D.

October

Every night

that you are gone

I lie in my bed

and I imagine your touch

and your warmth

I think how nothing opens me up more

than your caress.

The wind whispers outside, in the dark

and I feel your kiss against my neck.

The breeze in my ear

is your breathing.

Warm, bare-skinned bodies

your chest against my arm

your thigh on mine

two bodies, intertwined

your hand moves softly, gently

across my skin

your kiss is on my cheek

you pull me in closer

outside, leaves brush against leaves

lips brush against lips

they dance and fall from trees

as your hand moves down my spine

the wind presses the windowpane

against its frame

you press your body to mine.

I was never so alone

until your branches

got tangled

in my own.

- March 29, 1986, A.D.