|
Zylka
|
|
Life becomes all too complicated when you go strange places and do strange things with people, yet the memories are void and erased not so far in the future. I would have posted this in the now defunct gameleague forums, as I somehow know that's where I had met him... but here's the story - where chance is best
Last night I had dreamt of the past, of a trip down south for a few days where I showed up at the aforementioned friends' ranch and stayed for a weekend or two. I was totally out of it the day I arrived, sober yet confused... and had the worst time walking to the house unattended as two vicious dogs were barely kept at bay with my surprise memory of their names, and the tone of voice in which to calm them down. I had finally entered the filthy house on my own invitation, and met with the worst guard of them all - a once young and now fully grown black pup named "Bruiser" who had previously latched on to my arm before the hosts tore him off and taught him of my allaince.
It seemed no one was home, and at that thought a vicious downpoor hit the ragged, wild lawns behind the patio door, which set a mood somewhat familiar. As I stood in the kitchen (which, for some reason - had been designed as the front entrance as well) lightning struck, and at that the appearance of the family butler shook my calm. In a fair manner, he had me back in ease of familiarity - although I couldn't quite point out why he wasn't wearing a shirt. No matter, as we discussed as old friends - in which time he told me no one would be home for a while. From there, the next few hours are a blackout... as are many days of this trip (I hope to soon dream up the rest of this hazy past for confirmation of partial sanity)
Now clarity emerges and we're in the wilderness, playing an orientation type game with medallion prizes. It is myself and the rest of the family in this odd retreat (The family numbers around 14), less the friend I once met in the care free days of GameLeague Civ2. This terrain is more than odd, if I may repeat with addition - and a hurdle competition into a marsh type area is followed by a rock hunt in an open quarry, until the finale meets in a slight gorge with interesting heights of erosion and dead trees alike. Absolute frustration meets partial glee in these activities, as I consistently placed 2nd in every competition. The medals I received were honest gold, and it wasn't as if less than 4 different people were beating me for top spot each time... but when the prize for such was a platinum disc (yet small) and bragging rights in front of several attractive young participants - I needed closure to be of victory.
So back to the closing games, this had something to do with finding and dragging the longest tree back to a judge site, dead or alive - in a set time. Chaos ensues, yet I found a sure winner of length - a tiny pine dying in a shale grade, yet with a skimpy, winding root pulled out which was effective enough on technicality for an impressive bounty. Hearing my stressed breathing from pulling it out, a mid 20s jerk copy cat of the family screens my area and finds a like product of comparable measure, perhaps enough to defeat my own... but I'm not too sure. He believes so, and retreats to the judges - so I abandon risk and keep the search alive.
OOOOOOoooOO HOO HOO BOY! A massive, dead trunk is found beside the height of the gorge, a find only of hard work in climbing - it was so obviously not a hidden treasure! Too heavy for myself, but just light enough with the help of Lena (who was in on my effort only to spite her older brother that had copied my dig), it is paraded back to the "oohs" and "awes" of the remaining panicking contestants; still empty handed. To bring this sorry log to a close in brief, we decide that the width of the trunk is something that far decieved us in importance, and that length will suffice for a low podium score, at best.
At last - the REAL winner is found, of the same description as our fraud but thinned out by age, and twice as long! It is balancing on one of the miniature hoodoo type rises, but if knocked off will be like carrying 22 foot candy away from a hoodoo. Lena and I begin jumping and poking at this precarious prize with branches, while nearby scavengers decide that throwing rocks at it from a distance might somehow ensure their own victory. I won that contest, but the celebrations of our happy day as well unfortunately black out.
We're back in the house, as far as I can recall... Whoever you are, you lead quite the messy lives for being such a rich clan - but I love the brazen attitude towards it 
Now for some reason the one I am addressing is present, without his shirt on (what). He can barely remember me, which confuses myself as well... it appears the last time I visited we were 15 and looped on several substances, but the smiles and easy interaction tell that we get along just fine; and have faith in a friendship that won't erase.
Yet I couldn't keep my eyes off of your sisters, the youngest and prettiest of whom has recently turned 16 (and therefore of moral limit, in my books!!!). I was so nervous entertaining them all at once in the living room, with your parents keeping a watchful eye from the kitchen... furthermore, nervous in presenting and explaining my musical tastes of progressive house a la mix cd. Readers, the funniest yet most incredible of cultural traditions prompted by the well humored father furthered absolute joy with these girls.
I asked the story of the youngest sisters' room, located on the edge of the loft two and a half floors upstairs, yet for some reason accessible on the living room side by a MASSIVE and thick dead trunk of nearly 30 feet (again, wealth provides the finer things described, as we must all agree). He (aside and in secrecy from the newly erupting conversation within the room) told me of his glory days in the competition we had just played, of dragging back that impressive corpse at 27 years of age - which in turn impressed the wife of the household over the top and enough to accept his confident marriage proposal later that night. We had a good laugh and a drink or two together, and the conversation eventually brought up the question of whether or not it had any significance in attachment to his daughters' room. He responded, quite wispily - that it represents his expectations of a man in winning someone as important as his daughter over, just as he had his wife so many years ago. With my apparent confusion, and now rosy complexion - he quickly added that he had never seen anyone able to climb the tricky tree himself, but that "any young man able to do so would probably be as worthy a candidate for a girl like, oh, say - one of [his] younger daughters - as he was for his wife". He then added how impressive my own performance at the same finale game was, perhaps that I reminded him of a younger self..."
"Well, the wife and I are off for a walk to see the sunset. Be back in a couple of hours!"
Even before the front door closed I threw away my obvious mask of relaxtion, and scrambled up the first branches of the dead tree - much to the giggles of the older sisters below. The older brother was NOT impressed, and quickly followed me with attacks bent on offering my now heated body fully to gravity (note, the brother I now try to adress was asleep at the time, I believe... not much of his presence over the weekend(s) is remembered). Constant struggle balanced with upward progress provided quite the sense of NEAR accomplishment, as I had finally reached the top. Her rather small room was only connected to the tree physically by the head of the uppermost branch, so a leap further then most can spit was required. 30 feet above and a knifing brother one too many, a stressful reach was made for the bulk of the branch... and evasive manouvres followed, hopeful of the true prize
~SUCCESS~
I hit the back landing of the room dramatically, now much to the applause from below, and frustration of the snake behind. His stern grip fell only on the tree now, and as I would later learn - a lock on the "traditional" staircase door would prevent any further meddling.
My entrance into the room softly awakened my beauty (I do not yet remember her name, only that it echoed ages of European perfection - and my desire for her in infinite time and space). Intelligent as beautiful, she somehow knew what this was about... as if she had "been expecting me", only not quite so soon. A sweet and innocent yet passionate grin crossed her face, and so began what I do not feel honorable to describe - it feels as if popping a question to a perfect stranger would be a cherry of as much worth.
Blackout, and the next day I am kayaking with the family. Propped up against a scenery that reminds me much of Vancouver, but that hint doesn't reassure me at all of location... there is something displaced about this land. One of the double kayaks sunk, I think - I resurfaced it and remember not another thing. You can see why I need help in confirmation...
Dreary or dreamy, this happened. The location and people fit the pictures described on top of the pile of my photographs, although I am not present in any of them (being the photographer, I presume). Upon "discovery", I had previously questioned whether these were simply family pictures from when I was a child, as are many in the stack... yet this dream proved otherwise. It does lengths to describe my absense in the recent past, but this foul "amnesia" tightens the lips of my subconcious. I am Sorry to swing in and out of past tense in describing, but you the reader can surely understand how a perforated stream of consciousness is but a conjoined rub to document. My parents would know not, I never tell them of my dissapearnces and even they recently ask where time has been spent... So the question remains, and I call out for my friend:
Where was this? What was this? Who and WHY are you?
|
13-06-2003 08:32
|