When one door closes another door opens.
-Alexander Graham Bell
In a dream it's typical not to be rational.
-John Forbes Nash
Buy the ticket, take the ride.
-Hunter S. Thompson
I think my innocence was completely lost that year. It was like I went sliding down a total loss of innocence. I'm not certain how old I was, but that was the last time I went down a slide like that. I knew that was the last time; I'd never be that social, that open again.
When I woke up the next morning, my mouth was dry. I looked in the mirror and I saw my mouth was gone, just a patch of skin over where it used to be.
It was nice being that free, playing in the water, and pairing up on the raft-ride. The people in those days were zoned-out like zombies. If I could describe them, I'd describe them as all resembling Freddy Krueger.
I've been having nightmares, night terrors like in a Freddy Krueger movie. I keep seeing a zombie eating a heart of this baby he is holding. Something is holding what looks to be a baby at the end of a darkened red hall. Then I hear a sound of a grandma, and there is a train coming from the other end of the hall. I have nowhere to run to. I think I'm awake from the terror, but then as I'm drinking the water I look at the glass of water and see a small fish swimming around. Upon a second study of the species, I am swallowed whole by this huge fish face. It takes me to this undersea world I've never seen before. Above on the surface I hear screams, and then a boy falls into the water. He is kicking and shouting in panic, 'Help! Save me!' but no-one will jump into save him. The boy drowns and vanishes into a green sludge floating in the water.
The doors closed at one point in my life. It feels like I had that opportunity to do something, but fear held me back. There was one chance for me to get married and start a family, but then the door closed. I tried to reopen the door after, years later ,the fear subsided, but it was too late. That's when I met Dorrs Higginbone. She wasn't the same as Rosemary Perks, but I'll get to that later. Ms. Higginbone was the mother of Wiggins, our little baseboy hero that saved the day at C-field. Poor soul, she was a good lady. Unfortunately, Ms Higginbone was lying dead for weeks, probably more like months before anyone found out she had been eaten by ants. Can you imagine the pain you must feel being devoured by ants? They said she had a stroke sunbathing out in the backyard of her vacation house --- a nice subdued house in the far reaches of Eastport, Maine, in 1965. Yeah, that's my story, or pretty much what my story is about: her and how she used to care about me and what I had to say. If I get a little morbid from here on out, it is because, like I said, the year I went down that slide was like the year I knew my innocence was washed away forever. Whatever! It was washed away in the bloodiest current ever, alright!
Ms. Higginbone was the best. She even made me cookies for my birthday one year. You know they say people that remember those long ago memories, there's something terribly wrong with them, they are demented. Anyways, she had a doggie named 'Buddy'. I know very cliche, but reader it's the truth.
There was a carnival that season; the weather was hot; it was still nice. The breeze made it seem like it was spring, but closer to feeling like summer. The carnival always made me scared. The nights I stayed with her I saw myself at the carnival. I was walking alone after hours, after everyone had gone home. Clowns began to come after me asking, 'Do you like Clowns, boy?
I met Lisa in that dream, the Lisa that got decapitated on the carasol ride. Her head flung off and I caught it. Maybe this is why the ride had to be shut down. Real bummer!
Now every time I hear a door slam I think it is directed at how I missed my calling; at least, that's how I interpret it. I opened and closed a lot of doors that year, later in the autumn, when all the leaves fell to the ground. It was a constant metaphor for me striking out at everything in my life. I know it was difficult for Ms Higginbone before she perished. I even feel I contributed to her sorrow, which in return caused her to have a stroke.
There really isn't much more for me to say, since I don't have a mouth. Except, I now live in old Ms Higginbone's house and have big parties once a week. All my friends from years back visit me. It's a lot of fun. Once, this guy introduced himself to me as Coronel Rankard. I thought to myself 'wow, a real Coronel! How cool is that?' He was visiting a friend of a friend, so I thought, why not?
The house, it turns out, is very old and dates back to the Spanish Revolution. There are a bunch of those dream catchers hanging in several parts of the house. Coronel Rankard said it would be good for me to try them out. I explained that the terrors don't go away. The innocence doesn't return. You know what he said? He said, 'Your Damn f---n' right!, but the mind is a flowery leafy grave, you can dig up the good and you can dig up the bad.'
I liked Coronel Rankard. He and I used to sit and talk for hours under the moonlit Maine night.
Oh well, so be it.
