I was not moving, until one of the dogs traveled through my sphere. Then it began.
I was digging, doglike in the dirt, down and down and down. My left brain ws having trouble letting go, so I pushed it down into the hole as well. And I was two, a light half and a dark half with a head each. Snarling at each other, each thrashing itself forward, now along a corridor, loping. And then I could feel the third head, me, myself, and we howled with fury and impatience and exultation and howl fest release, and we loped drunkenly as each half surged forward in time and space. A great hall, where I proclaimed as hands tried to pet me, that I was no ones pet, no one’s master, no one’s slave.
I ran on, past a very tall, very tall, Lugh? and down another hall. I tried my senses, nose not so sharp, many eyes, tongues lolled with doggie grins and howls and a restless angst that drove me onward. Loping, hunting, breathing hard, searching with all my eyes. Sometimes we snarled and fought amonsgst ourselves, my heads and I. But I felt them each, the left brain tied to the vision, the right brain enjoying the heady ride, the ego observant and draemmlike.
A small girl. She bade me rest. Was she the girl in tunnels with the acorn? No, but she was alike, a sister. Rest, and I placed my heads in her lap, and she petted us gently. But I can’t rest, I must search for the pieces of myself. How will Ifind them if I do not search? They will find you, she said. Some will come, when you rest, others will be hidden along the path. No, I yelled. Not good enough. When will they come? In their own time. No, I yelled. I could be nearly dead again by then. I must search for them.
I died. I died and am not yet reborn. I have not found the phoenix. I still feel dead. And something bit me, to remind me I was still alive. And I forced myself into the underworld once more.
Then He left, in his jeep, and I thought, he is going to get cigarettes. I felt fear. Then, back into the underworld, I cannot care what he does, that is why I cannot care.
Bees. Jessica and I had discussed bees. And a field of flowers opened before me in the underworld, replete with huge bees. Each bee sported a man’s head. I must not show fear, I thought, becomming more myself, more humanform, yet still with energy fur. I can do everything right, and they will still sting me, hurt me. I can do everything wrong, and they might not. It is all in the fear. If I fear them, they will smell it, sense it, and most certainly attack. I will walk among them and have no fear. Do what you will, I say. You will sting me or not. It doesn’t matter what I do. There is no point in fear. I am not afraid.
I can do everything right, and they will still sting me. It doesn’t matter. I will walk among them, unconcerned. Unafraid.
I wonder if the dogs could sense my canine nature when I journed back again.