The Wizard of Odds
I came in today from the English book study in Sandy Bay that meets at 3:00 p.m. It’s a hot one out here. We came back with Sister Howell to shop for some Vegetables and fruit from the pick-up truck guys.
I played with the neighborhood dog that likes to scare the crap out of you by running up behind you like a rabid dog when you’re not looking. She’ll come almost to touching you. Then once she sees you’ve peed your pants in fear she’ll run back to her hiding place jumping and playing with prideful joy.
Walking all the way back to our apartment dressed for the meeting in the heat of the day is not the most enjoyable task I could think of. I opened the door, stripped to my skibbies and grabbed “Una Coca-Cola”. As I drank I got this tingly feeling of joy and relief in the back of my throat.
I sit in our apartment watching the towels and sheets we hung up in the main room being twirled around by the dueling fans. The crickets chirp outside as the iguanas come up to eat them. The water ripples a quarter mile down the road as the water taxi goes by. Above the pre-recorded music of “Fosters” a Spanish swear is heard as a “Salva Vida” beer plops into the ocean below. Tomorrow I’m sure I will come across it as I dive down looking for the exposed bit of Captain Morgan’s Treasure still buried somewhere on this Island. At times my treasure hunter heritage gets the best of me.
Today I got up early as Rondal slept, put on some shorts and a pair of sneaks to go out for a nice run along the beach from West End to West Bay. I ended up just walking. It was so quiet and peaceful. The repetitious crash of the two inch waves kept my mind fixed on the text and Bible Reading from earlier. The time to really delve into my spiritual studies is a gift I could not put a price on.
As I walked back I popped into the internet café/ bungalow where I do my surfing. Tanja, the girl who runs the store, is very earthy and beautiful in her own decided way. I think she’s taking a liking to Rondal. She’s mentioned his height and kindness one too many times for it just to be a friendly thing.
Finishing there, I went back home. I took off my shoes and put on my sandals “Mr. Rodgers” style, picked up my “bit ‘o Beck” self made Beck mix CD, and popped it into the portable player. As I funky walked my way back out I made sure to grab my Bible Teach book.
For the next fifteen minutes or so I funky walked my way around town, occasionally looking up and thanking Jehovah for such a great day. When I found an empty dock I sat down, pulled out my book and took in the rays of light and knowledge.
I dreamt a dream I’d never dreamt before.
Just as I was about to nod off I heard the sound of unwinding that electricity makes when it goes out. The blades of my fan slowly came to a halt, as did the little bit of oxygen that flowed through my small room. Pools of sweat collected at the tip of my sternum and belly button until they over flowed to form the ocean forming between myself and the bed. The silence of my mind convincing itself to go to sleep was broken by a crash of lightning outside my window. The steady claps of water against the leafs of Banana trees increased to a roaring crowd of applause. The wind whipped and blew hard enough to blow down the brick house of the third little pig. Since my windows are only screens with wooden bars behind them, and my pools of sweat were lonely, the rain decided to ride the wind through the windows and onto my body.
Considering that I had not checked the news in two weeks, and it was the start of hurricane season, a bit of fear begin to creep up inside of me. Not enough to produce twisted intestines, but enough to cause all hopes of sleep to vanish.
Normally I love thunder storms at night, but being inside a tree house built on the ground took all the joy out of it. Hours passed when the winding up of electricity and fan blades answered my prayers. As I dosed off to sleep my mind was full of joy and ease.
If I had known what kind of dream my subconscious had in store for me I would have gone outside to join the storm.
I played with the neighborhood dog that likes to scare the crap out of you by running up behind you like a rabid dog when you’re not looking. She’ll come almost to touching you. Then once she sees you’ve peed your pants in fear she’ll run back to her hiding place jumping and playing with prideful joy.
Walking all the way back to our apartment dressed for the meeting in the heat of the day is not the most enjoyable task I could think of. I opened the door, stripped to my skibbies and grabbed “Una Coca-Cola”. As I drank I got this tingly feeling of joy and relief in the back of my throat.
I sit in our apartment watching the towels and sheets we hung up in the main room being twirled around by the dueling fans. The crickets chirp outside as the iguanas come up to eat them. The water ripples a quarter mile down the road as the water taxi goes by. Above the pre-recorded music of “Fosters” a Spanish swear is heard as a “Salva Vida” beer plops into the ocean below. Tomorrow I’m sure I will come across it as I dive down looking for the exposed bit of Captain Morgan’s Treasure still buried somewhere on this Island. At times my treasure hunter heritage gets the best of me.
Today I got up early as Rondal slept, put on some shorts and a pair of sneaks to go out for a nice run along the beach from West End to West Bay. I ended up just walking. It was so quiet and peaceful. The repetitious crash of the two inch waves kept my mind fixed on the text and Bible Reading from earlier. The time to really delve into my spiritual studies is a gift I could not put a price on.
As I walked back I popped into the internet café/ bungalow where I do my surfing. Tanja, the girl who runs the store, is very earthy and beautiful in her own decided way. I think she’s taking a liking to Rondal. She’s mentioned his height and kindness one too many times for it just to be a friendly thing.
Finishing there, I went back home. I took off my shoes and put on my sandals “Mr. Rodgers” style, picked up my “bit ‘o Beck” self made Beck mix CD, and popped it into the portable player. As I funky walked my way back out I made sure to grab my Bible Teach book.
For the next fifteen minutes or so I funky walked my way around town, occasionally looking up and thanking Jehovah for such a great day. When I found an empty dock I sat down, pulled out my book and took in the rays of light and knowledge.
I dreamt a dream I’d never dreamt before.
Just as I was about to nod off I heard the sound of unwinding that electricity makes when it goes out. The blades of my fan slowly came to a halt, as did the little bit of oxygen that flowed through my small room. Pools of sweat collected at the tip of my sternum and belly button until they over flowed to form the ocean forming between myself and the bed. The silence of my mind convincing itself to go to sleep was broken by a crash of lightning outside my window. The steady claps of water against the leafs of Banana trees increased to a roaring crowd of applause. The wind whipped and blew hard enough to blow down the brick house of the third little pig. Since my windows are only screens with wooden bars behind them, and my pools of sweat were lonely, the rain decided to ride the wind through the windows and onto my body.
Considering that I had not checked the news in two weeks, and it was the start of hurricane season, a bit of fear begin to creep up inside of me. Not enough to produce twisted intestines, but enough to cause all hopes of sleep to vanish.
Normally I love thunder storms at night, but being inside a tree house built on the ground took all the joy out of it. Hours passed when the winding up of electricity and fan blades answered my prayers. As I dosed off to sleep my mind was full of joy and ease.
If I had known what kind of dream my subconscious had in store for me I would have gone outside to join the storm.
posted by beyondthestairs at 7:39 PM
6 Comments:
sounds about right. a little island bliss is just what the doctor ordered, eh?
nice long dialogue. quite the writer.
tricky dreams. sometimes sleep is a safe place, other times i try my hardest not to let sleep come over me.
Ah, island life. Welcome to the closest thing to paradise this side of Armaggedon.
knowing who you used to be and knowing what your dreams were at one point in time makes this story scary, hairy, and never fine!
Elizabeth,
I think it's what the doctor ordered for the both of us. Except my island is smaller. It makes me feel taller.
Anonymous,
All I do is write. It's not all that good, but it is me.
Abz,
Oh, no sleep is always good. Even when the dreams are crazy.
Natasha,
I wish I was on your island with you, but someday we'll share an Island together in peace. Until then two of us on the same Island would be impossible. Our personalities are too big. :)
Jecca,
Ya, I am really hairy.
Melinda,
LOL, Daniel the greatest. A bit on the crazy side, but i relate to that. As his mom you can only blame yourself. ;) I'm on an island called Roatan in Honduras. Want to come visit? The major language is English.
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