born in 1985, an adopted child of a heavy-hearted woman and a jolly/dejected father, I lived as a stranger in my skin for a while. life was not bad, it was undefined, lacking clarity and something more. ledges to latch onto on the climb through all the lessons of life were spread wildly across the face of a great mountain range with vast distances between chasms and peaks. I find recurring dreams, like winged monkeys in flying suits at night, circling the house. obviously, a classic Wizard of Oz motif. with no yellow brick road, I watch from my bedroom window... as a squadron of big men below, wearing fuzzy hats are holding silver spears, patrolling my own back yard. they move in unison through torch light flicker flames. I’m watching them marching. it’s frightening. I hear them singing, “OHREOHREOHREOHREYOHOHO…” wake up terrified and confused and alone. hear something calling me to look outside at four years old and I see the same scene I'd just seen, repeating. the men there, patrolling, their voices are booming, singing, “OHREOHREOHREOHREYOHOHO…”
recursing nightmare
see the ending at the start
nothing left to fear
