• Poetry & Flash Fiction
  • testing

Indigo Vales

~ where the writing comes from

Indigo Vales

Tag Archives: wolves

My Change Wolves Are Roaming

21 Monday Nov 2016

Posted by Kristine in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

evolving, season, wolves, woman

Last night as I lay on my side looking at the silhouette of my windowsill plants, a voice told me I need moon plants.  Gotcha.  Nearly a week ago, through silent pictures of my dreaming mind, a voice said I am working on transition, there is change coming and there is yet more change needed.  Will do.  Last night I held a a six month old who’d been stuck in a car seat for 12 hours, his parents unpacking and taking a few much-needed breaths of silent, babyless, cold air, and I had hoped to hang on to the little guy for a long while.  But he is teething, and his moaning shifted to tragedy quickly, his baby pain full bore.  I didn’t want to drag his mom back here, knowing her own nerves were raw and exhausted, but a woman knows when a baby needs mom more than auntie crazy lady down the hall.  (Must say he did pause at the little brass bells that tinkled on my   )0(  symbol hanging from the ceiling fan.)  I surrendered him and paced my suddenly-silent apartment for awhile.  No longer cat sitting or holding a suffering little one, I could hear the condensation dripping down metal-framed windows. The wheel turns.

I’d been having a competition with myself to see how long I could keep the thermostat off.  I don’t recall freezing in the apartments as a city kid, but I do recall ice caking on the inside of the windows of that other house where I lived as a teen.  I discovered the short-lived joys of the thermostat, able to run around the house in shorts all winter long, that is until my dad took out the thermostats, leaaving little round holes in the wall where the wires stuck out. I guess he’d had enough of telling us not to turn up the heat.  God damn it got cold in my bedroom.  The house I lived while raising our family had warm hearts, like the living room, but really cold edges. Only way to keep the kitchen warm was to cook in it!  ‘Magine that. And now the father’s “doom,” that one day I’d have my own place and have to pay for heat, see how I like it THEN!  Well wunt he just too right?  Almost made it to Thanksgiving, which was my goal. Maybe next year. The wheel turns.

All this leads to transition, change, and the need for more change.  Time to return all my precious shells, rocks, and candles back to their ledges now that the cat is gone. Time to remember how it felt to hold my son when he was a happy little guy, vibrating with words and curiousity. I want to clean the house top to bottom and be ready for solstice, but that’s getting ahead of things.  First I want to finish an essay, and prepare for a bus trip to DC to stand up for women on inauguration day. God damn I hate being cold, but you know?  Every Body counts.  Keep the wheels turning.

Nov 16 dream

17 Thursday Nov 2016

Posted by Kristine in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

buildings, bus, dream, naked, streets, wolves

The dream began in an industrial building, many floors, everyone uses the center of the building as a “thruway” between one street and another.  The building is dark, dusty, fairly empty, and the only light comes from outside.  I am naked. I am trying to cover myself with my hands as I run or sneak through this building, trying to get to another part of the street. There is something on the other side I have to accomplish maybe, but I am not sure what.  I am outside on the street now. Old bricks, rounded, cobbles, low light, couples or groups everywhere laughing and enjoying themselves.  It feels like a movie set I might have seen at Orlando Studios where real life blends with the movies.  It adds to the unreality of the dream.  I stumble and sneak through a building that is a multi-level bar and hotel. Despite my urgency and situation, I notice how beautiful the rooms are, the low lighting, decorations.   People are watching TV screens and drinking, totally unaware I am among them naked, and I am relieved.  I pass through the building, come out the other side.  There is what looks like a Halloween scene that young people would pass through for fun, where manikins and papier mache decorations shaped like green glow in the dark demons, skeletons, and large-bodied creatures like hippos rise up out of the mud, slowly, jerky, and I have to walk through their mud and on top of their bodies to get away, to get to this place I need to be, and I do so without hesitation but I am afraid because it all feels too real.   They rise up silently, muddy, scary, and I see a discarded blanket of some sort against a wall, a kind of basic quilted blanket a mover would use to cover furniture. It is old and muddy, but I take it and wrap myself in it, and now I move faster through this graveyard of fake creatures that still frighten me.  Damp side streets, glistening, I look at the skyline, trying to find the building I was once in, trying to make my way back to it so I could cross through again, but it’s nowhere to be found.  Now there are two giant wolves following me. The black one is at my right side and he bites my right hand and wrist, biting, gnawing, and I try to shoo him away but he will not let go.  There is a white wolf just behind my right leg and she is along for the ride, not interested in me but just accompanying the black.  He keeps biting me and I keep half-running down the streets trying to find my way back.

At last I find buses that are lined up waiting to take people wherever.  The wolves are gone.  I get on a bus, noting they have the flat-faced windshield, headlights, and front of the buses I used to ride when I grew up in the city.  I climbed on. The driver was a very young man in a pressed white shirt, bow-tie, and slacks. He was way too enthusiastic talking about the ride to wherever, then he took his seat.  The bus began to move and two people took the front stage of the bus.  (The bus had a few seats, and most of the front was reserved for the performers platform up front.)  The man was elderly, dirty, and began to whittle a 3-foot log.  The woman next to him was elderly, overweight, wearing a dirty tank top and shorts, no shoes, and did not care that her saucer-sized nipples were on full view to the whole world. She lifted up a fiddle and began to play while her compatriot whittled and I wondered where this bus would take me.  It drove on modern highways with modern signs, and that was the end of the dream.

Recent Posts

  • Night of the Curtain
  • Dear Right Shoulder,
  • A Perfect August Night In OV
  • Metallica & Iron Maiden Before You Knew Them
  • Fourth Of Us….. ?

Tags

amwriting angry woman birds blessings brother change child childhood Choose cycles dad daughter death destiny dog dream evolving faith family father fear fight Flash fiction friend goals grief help Henry Rollins hope HoW human inspiration International Authors Iron Maiden justice life listen love march memory Mom morning mother music nature neighbor not writing ocean pain peace poem poem? poetry politics power progress prompt rain reading season silence sleepless social media Solstice son sorting spring storm sunrise thoughts truth Universe weather woman writing

Blogroll

  • Duotrope
  • Highbrow
  • International Authors
  • Listen to Uncle Stevie!
  • terribleminds
  • The (Submission) Grinder

Social

  • View @indigovales’s profile on Twitter

Housekeeping

  • Register
  • Log in
  • Entries feed
  • Comments feed
  • WordPress.com

Stay in touch with good ol' fashioned email here at indigovales@gmail.com

Join 127 other subscribers

Archives

  • October 2022
  • August 2022
  • July 2022
  • June 2022
  • May 2022
  • March 2022
  • February 2022
  • October 2021
  • July 2021
  • May 2021
  • April 2021
  • December 2020
  • November 2020
  • October 2020
  • September 2020
  • August 2020
  • July 2020
  • June 2020
  • May 2020
  • March 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • November 2019
  • October 2019
  • August 2019
  • July 2019
  • May 2019
  • March 2019
  • February 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • April 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • January 2016
  • December 2015
  • November 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • July 2015

Blog at WordPress.com.

  • Follow Following
    • Indigo Vales
    • Join 127 other followers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • Indigo Vales
    • Customize
    • Follow Following
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar