Vision (with Birds)


I had a vision — it wasn't a dream because I was awake. My father was dragging my mother into the forest by her hair. She was on her back and it was really shitty weather, huge thunderstorm, lots of lightning. I know she's kind of conscious because her head's swaying and she's moaning. He gets to this tree and he starts climbing it, pulling her up by the ankles. It's a really tall tree, the tallest around, and he keeps climbing, her dress is soiled and ripped, she's full of little cuts and bruises, but still her hair is perfect, held in place with pins and lacquer.

My vision ended there, but the most probable conclusion is:

My father climbs down from the tree. He goes home, fixes himself a little snack, listens to some distant symphony on his transistor radio.

When my mother wakes up its morning. She yawns and stretches, the sky blue all around her, birds singing.  She's so high up she can see the whole village. She climbs down the tree, goes home, cleans up all her little wounds with disinfectant and flesh-toned bandages. Her hair is still perfect, so she just has to change and then she can go to church.


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