Thursday, December 08, 2011

You Should Help Her More

I catch a glimpse of Lady outside the window. She is walking very fast to the utility shed from the basement door. (None of these settings corresponds to any waking experience.) She is dragging flattened cardboard. 

What's she doing? Why does the cardboard belong in the shed instead of the basement?

I make preparations to go and assist, grudgingly. Is this necessary? I am lacing boots by the back door. 

A grandson, not Peej but one who plays a grandson in our play, approaches. 

"You really should help her more," he says. I know he's repeating what my son has said, but I pay it no mind. These aren't really my own family. 

I walk beside Lady now. I'm telling her my adventure. 

I tried to find you, I said, but opened the door of the shed and there was a miniature football stadium where the storage building should be. There were young boys playing football. The ball flew out the window. 

Nobody knew what to do about it. They mostly stood around and waited. With great shrugs and nods, an adult, a coach or parent of one of the boys, is trying to indicate to me it would be nice we're I to retrieve the football. It was almost expected of me. 

I went around the corner. I guess like magical fairies, none of them in the shed could leave it. I'll bet someone has the ball by now. 

Around two corners, the side of the shed opposite the only door, the ball lays in a lot like a horse pasture. Approaching is a group of boys. One of them just ahead of two others bends to scoop up the ball and they stride up away from the pasture. I watch them go. 

This is what I want to tell Lady, but she shushes me. On her other side is a blonde lady, smiling through crinkly make-up and gazing straight ahead through eyes that do not see. I am to understand she'a an old friend of Lady's and she's been talking and I interrupted. 

Okay, I think, and I bolt away. I won't be going to the car to drive home with Lady then. She can look for me. 

Where am I? It seems to be the bare underside of a huge stadium. Over there is a ward. I enter it and lay down on one of the beds. 

I remain there. That should fix her! Don't want to hear about the lost and found football, well, I son't care about the glazed blonde neither. Bet she wasn't even there in the flesh. 

I jump up as spontaneously as I entered the ward. It was the time to enter now it's time to go. 

On one of the other beds is my list brother Reloj. He isn't leaving. 

Tim Bowden is twiddling his thumbs on his  iPhone 4S!