Dog Poet Transmitting.......
May your noses always be cold and wet.
Yesterday afternoon I lay down for a nap. Some time after I fell asleep, I found myself in a noxious and toxic swamp. Hot winds blew across a blasted landscape, where the souls of the damned howled and shrieked. It was a place of infinite sadness and terror, juxtaposed in a land that the ineffable had forgotten. It was somewhere outside of The Ring Pass Not. I continued slogging my way through this odoriferous country that constantly reminded me of the intestinal track of a drowned hyena, ten days after the fact. I went on and on. I could not stay and I could not go back. Somehow... I knew that going back led to an even worse environment. Finally, I found myself in a long tunnel. It also stank horribly. Everything in this place stank. It stank of rot and a corruption that was both physical and spiritual. Under any normal circumstances I would have been retching uncontrollably but... it was a dream.
After a time I came to the end of the tunnel and was confronted by large columns of various sizes that reminded me of what the trunks of an infected mucous tree might look like, were there such a thing. You make weird comparisons in dreams. Don't ask me why. It happens. I found some rubble strewn about and I tossed some of it at the columns and the sound was what you might expect from ravens and frogs... but unlike any ravens and frogs from this plane. These were percussive sounds such as you might expect from infernal ravens and frogs, who perched on dead trees and in stagnant ponds, in some awful place far to the south of the worst purgatory.
The smell of the place... how can I describe it? It was like a mix of formaldehyde and sulfur commingled with burning hair but... it was so much worse than that. I continued on in the way I was headed. There seems to be a source of light far off in the distance. Then I came into a massive opening that stank even worse than anywhere I had been before. There were two massive rows of stones that might have once been white but they were now tarnished the way rocks might be if they were in a river near some chemical or manufacturing plant. There was light coming from the area between the rows of stones and now I noticed a terrible wind that would blow past me at regular intervals. I had to get out of there.
It was at this point that I realized that I had climbing gear with me; a pointed rock and snow axe, pitons, nylon rope and rappelling apparatus. I climbed up to the rows of stones and made my way over them. At this point I saw that there was a circle of pustulent red that signaled the last obstacle to my passage out of this loathsome place. Finally, I was standing on top of it and was confronted by a massive mirror. The wind that blew out of the cavern was fogging the mirror and suddenly I heard a terrible roar that stunned my ears. It was like the cry of some immense, demented, Valkyrie Hell Bitch. It took me a moment to translate what was being said as I listened to the echo of it fading away; “Isn't this bitch ever going to die?”
Suddenly it dawned on me. I had been in someone's body. The tunnel had been the esophagus and the columns were the vocal chords. The rows of stones were teeth and the pustulent red circle were lips. I knew from a rush of intuitive force that I had been in the body of Joan Rivers and now I began to make out the features of a horrific gargoyle. It was Melissa Rivers with the hand mirror and the booming voice. Somehow I had shrunk to a tiny size and by some unfortunate twist of fate, I had been transported into one of the most viral locations on planet Earth. As I stood there, I heard a gurgling rattle. The lips became unsteady. I was standing on shaky ground, as if I were in an earthquake. Something transparent and mist like slipped out of the mouth of this creature and the smell was so bad that I fainted clear away. I don't know for how long I was unconscious but eventually I came back to myself and realized that it was Joan Rivers soul which had passed me by. I could hear Melissa Rivers cackling like a turkey vulture and there was this thunderous abrasive sound which I discovered was caused by her rubbing her hands together. She was saying, “good, good, the bitch is dead. I get the money, hahah haha haha hah hah!” That laugh chilled me to the soul. I shall never forget it in all the days of my life. Mercifully I awoke at that point because the whole experience was beyond my endurance.
I looked to the side of the bed and saw that the wig I had been wearing for the spoof videos was now snow white. I imagined my own hair would have also been, were there any. I guess I will know more once my beard grows out over the coming week.
Was I the recipient of a prophetic dream? It seemed so real. I hope I shall not have to ever endure such a thing again. You had to be there. Mere words cannot convey what it was like... shudder. Count your blessing that you were not with me during my Dantean journey. The things I saw! The images that came and went! No! No! I will speak no more on these things. I fear that I am no longer sane. Let me seek out a new subject for the rest of this posting.
Gasp! I don't know if I can continue. I feel almost as if my soul was wrenched from my body during my hyper dimensional dream state. I fear that I have become frail in recent time and am no longer capable of enduring such an awful visitation. The face of Melissa will haunt me for some time. I pray for the mercy of forgetfulness. What it was like, there in the volatile and evil darkness, arrrrgh. I have seen things in this life but... I now know there are things worse than I had previously imagined. Can I be cleansed of this? Should I seek some sort of monastic retreat for a time? I must steel myself for the days ahead and focus the mind on brighter thoughts and places.
A strange tune is playing in my head. I was unable to fix its origin in the immediate aftermath but now I know it is the theme song for the QVC channel. Torturous images of bad jewelry, interspersed with masked surgeons cutting and stitching up facial flesh assault my mind. I can no longer close my eyes. It will pass! It will pass! It must pass! Have faith, visible! All will be well. You have been through a terrible experience. I am so very thankful that all of the hardships of my life have somewhat prepared me for things like this. No one could be fully prepared for such an experience. Inhuman life forms surround us on all sides. We do not see them as they are. For me it is as if the veils of appearance were rent and what was never meant to be seen by human eyes was... for a short time, before my trembling gaze.
I must apologize for my inability to go on. My fingers will not respond to the keyboard and it is torment to strive against such difficulty in my efforts to communicate. I am afraid I must go now and seek what solace may be found in the deeper part of me. I will return once I have recovered. Thank you for your patience at this time. Oh the horror! The horror!!!
Well, I have been invited to Nepal and I have been invited to the most southern regions of Arkansas but no solid opportunity has yet emerged for the Hawaiian Islands. I wait in hope that someone from that location might have positive news for me concerning my return to my former home in the Pacific. How will it all sort out? We shall see. Oh the horror! The horror!!! Sigh...
'Safe in the Nostalgia Zone' will feature on a forthcoming Visible album, sometime in 2014
The Curious Tale of Ash and The Whine
- 'A Novel of the Unnatural and Supernatural...'
|Kindle Edition: $9.99|