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wisdomrays · 3 years

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TAFAKKUR: Part 338

INTERPRETING DREAMS: Part 2

DREAMS: A SPIRITUAL APPROACH

Ahl Allah (people who have proximity to God) said that: "The spirit has two windows for the world of Barzah: sleep and inspiration. In dreams, sometimes a person sees future happenings directly and sometimes in symbols. The latter should be decoded. If the sensory organs are closed to the physical world, and the internal mirror (the heart) is clean of all evil and polished, spiritual beings and unknown writings in theLawh-i Mahfooz can be reflected and seen in this mirror. But if the senses are occupied with the material world and the internal mirror is rusty, the spirit cannot view the world of Barzah. Rather, it becomes busy with images left in the memory from the five senses. When a person dies, however, the spirit can view the metaphysical world and learn about the world of the Unseen (ghayb), for the senses and the body can no longer serve as obstacles. By inspiration, people can learn many previously unknown things. But if their hearts are not clean, they will not recognize and understand the actual source of these inspirations".

Ibn Khaldun devotes a portion of his book al-Muqaddimah (Prolegomena) to dreams:

"A dream is a spiritual activity that consists of seeing and observing the forms and shapes of entities reflected to the spirit from the Unseen (ghayb) after the spirit enters into the metaphysical world during sleep. When people are awake, they do not contemplate their spirituality, for they are occupied with their carnal and physical functions. Thus they forget the information reflected from the Unseen. Since people reduce their connection with the flesh and physical existence while asleep, they become spiritual entities somewhat like other spiritual beings and, when they turn toward the world of the Unseen, can observe angels and other ethereal beings [lateef entities(6)]"

The bond between body and spirit, merely a connection, becomes ideal during dreams. With this development, the human spirit becomes an incorporeal being and can perceive without the help of the body and the sense organs. In this state, the human spirit is lower than an angel, because an angel's perfection comes from its nature and creation. As an angel's intuition or cognition never develops, it cannot improve itself. However, as long as the spirit inhabits a physical body, it can develop and grow in metaphysical understanding. This ability can be classified into two groups: special (belonging to the saints in the form of gifts) and general (found in everybody in the form of contacting the Unseen).

The spirits of Prophets are purely spiritual, for they transcend the body. This state is the highest rank of spirituality. Its onset could be observed whenever a Prophet received Revelation, for his

body's perceptive faculties would enter a dozing-like period different from regular sleep. In reality, sleeping is greatly inferior to such a state. Concerning this state, the Prophet said: "The (good) dreams of a believer are one part of the forty-six parts of Prophethood (Al-Bukhari, vol. 9: no. 116). Some Muslim scholars interpret this hadith as meaning that when the Revelation began, it was in the form of dreams for the first 6 months. (His Prophethood lasted for 23 years in total, and so the first 6 months would constitute l/46th of this period.)

A Prophet's dreams are not ordinary, for they come true exactly as they are seen. All Prophets had dreams in the first stage of their Prophethood. This only indicates the association of dreams to Prophethood, not the reality of dreaming to the essence of Prophethood, of which dreaming constitutes only a small part. In addition, it is an innate human ability that allows us to reach spiritual and unseen worlds. The smallness of this fraction (l/46th) contrasts the relationship of this common ability to dream with a Prophet's ability to contact spiritual and unseen worlds.

Contacting these nonmaterial worlds is very difficult, although it is a general potential for human beings. Many obstacles prevent us from making the best use of this ability. The first one is the external senses. God made sleeping an innate and natural characteristic and state of mind so that we could bypass, temporarily, these external obstacles. During sleep, one can try to understand the reality behind events and also have some of his or her concerns addressed in dreams. For this reason, Prophet Muhammad regarded dreaming as a harbinger. He said: "Nothing is left of Prophethood except al-mubashshirat (harbingers, glad tidings)." His Companions asked: "What are al-mubashshirat?" He replied: "The true, good dreams (that convey glad tidings). Only pious people and you have such dreams" (Al-Bukhari, vol. 9: no. 119).

The nafs-i natika can perceive and think only via the human spirit, for they are tied to each other. Creation, through combining and synthesizing physical elements, prevents ethereal entities from influencing material objects. Since the human spirit is both ethereal (lateef) and located within material entities, it needs a means (the nafs-i natika) through which it can receive the stimuli of material things. The nafs-i natika, which fulfills this function, acts within the human spirit and has both internal and external perceptive abilities. Internal perceptions come through the brain's faculties, while external perceptions come through the five senses.

These means of perception, despite their innate abilities, inhibit the perception of metaphysical realities. The external senses, which are all corporeal, are used by the nafs-i natika so often that they become exhausted and require sleep to rest.

Even though the spirit can leave the body, tired senses inhibit the nafs-i natika from perceiving metaphysical realities. God implanted within the spirit a desire to depart from the material realm, as shown by its turning from the external senses toward the internal senses. As the night's coolness helps this departure, the body's natural heat withdraws deep inside the body and the spirit, which causes the nafs-i natika to ascend to the spiritual realm. The human spirit remains inside the body. This is why people fall asleep.

When the human spirit leaves the external senses and supervises the internal faculties, the nafs-i natika's tasks are alleviated. This reduces the obstacles to its ascent, which allows it to deal with sensory images. Imagination engenders virtual figures by synthesizing and analyzing sensory images, because the carnal soul perceives, observes, and becomes mostly accustomed and familiar with these figures. This is the basic habit of the nafs-i natika. After this, the collective sensory powers, which gather all external sensory perceptions in the brain, observe those images as if they were actually perceived with external senses.

During sleep, the spirit does not deal with internal or external powers. Rather, it grasps its spirituality as if it were a physical perception, and acquires information about the Unseen. The human spirit then submits these images directly to the imagination, which either accepts them totally or puts them into resembling shapes (symbols). Dreams that result from the latter process require interpretation, for the meaning is not immediately clear. If the nafs-i natika analyzes and synthesizes the images acquired through external senses and hidden in its memory with what it perceived from the Unseen during sleep, the dream is confusing and mixed up.

In an authentic hadith, the Prophet says: "There are three kinds of dreams: those inspired by God during sleep, those from angels, and those inspired by Satan" (Al-Bukhari, vol. 9: no. 144). This does not invalidate the above argument. Dreams that need to be interpreted are from angels, while confusing and mixed dreams come from Satan. The latter are beguiling and erroneous.

Most of our dreams are neither deliberate nor intentional. When one's spirit focuses on the Unseen world to learn the hidden reality about itself or something else, the reality of these things may reflect on it instantly, and the subjects of concern may become clear. If this is not the case, the spirit cannot see and observe whatever and whenever it wants to during sleep.

Medieval Islamic literature records many instances of pre-Islamic Arabs relying on soothsayers who also dealt with dream interpretation. For example, Shiqq (from the family of Enmer bin Nizar) and Sutayuh (a descendent of Mazun bin Garsan) were well-known soothsayers. Sutayuh had no bones in his body, except for his skull, and so could be folded like cloth.

The most well-known stories about these soothsayers are Shiqq's interpretation of Rebia bin Muzar's dream heralding the Abyssinian invasion of Yemen, and Sutayuh's interpretation of the famous Persian scholar Mubezan's dream. Chosroes of Persia sent 'Abdulmesih to ask Sutayuh to interpret Mubezan's dream. Sutayuh said that it foretold the coming of a new Prophet and the destruction of Chosreos' kingdom.

'Abdulgani an-Nablusi states, in light of Qur'anic verses and the Prophet's hadiths: They shall have glad tidings in this world and in the Hereafter (10:64). According to some Qur'an interpreters, glad tidings in the earthly life means dreams about a person regardless of who dreams; glad tidings in the Hereafter means seeing God.

The Prophet said: "One who does not believe in true dreams does not have a sound belief in God and the Resurrection." 'A'isha, the Prophet's wife, stated that: "The commencement (of the Divine Inspiration) to God's Apostle was in the form of true dreams in his sleep, for all of his dreams turned out to be true and clear as bright daylight" (Al-Bukhari, vol. 6: no. 478)

The Prophet once told Abu Bakr as-Siddiq: "I dreamed we were climbing up some stairs, but that I was two steps ahead (of you)." Abu Bakr interpreted this as follows: "O Messenger of God, after God raises your soul to heavens near Him and grants you His Compassion, I will give for another 2 1/2 years".

Your Lord will approve you (Yusuf) (as in your dream) select you and grant you the knowledge on interpretation of dreams (12:6), and 0 my Lord. You have indeed bestowed on me (something of) sovereignty, and taught me something of the interpretation of dreams and events... (12:101). According to these verses, God granted the knowledge of dreams to Yusuf (Joseph).

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therealactualdagon · 5 years

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Tell a bedtime story

Ahem

Once upon a time

“I am writing this under an appreciable mental strain, since by tonight I shall be no more. Penniless, and at the end of my supply of the drug which alone makes life endurable, I can bear the torture no longer; and shall cast myself from this garret window into the squalid street below. Do not think from my slavery to morphine that I am a weakling or a degenerate. When you have read these hastily scrawled pages you may guess, though never fully realise, why it is that I must have forgetfulness or death.It was in one of the most open and least frequented parts of the broad Pacific that the packet of which I was supercargo fell a victim to the German sea-raider. The great war was then at its very beginning, and the ocean forces of the Hun had not completely sunk to their later degradation; so that our vessel was made a legitimate prize, whilst we of her crew were treated with all the fairness and consideration due us as naval prisoners. So liberal, indeed, was the discipline of our captors, that five days after we were taken I managed to escape alone in a small boat with water and provisions for a good length of time.

When I finally found myself adrift and free, I had but little idea of my surroundings. Never a competent navigator, I could only guess vaguely by the sun and stars that I was somewhat south of the equator. Of the longitude I knew nothing, and no island or coast-line was in sight. The weather kept fair, and for uncounted days I drifted aimlessly beneath the scorching sun; waiting either for some passing ship, or to be cast on the shores of some habitable land. But neither ship nor land appeared, and I began to despair in my solitude upon the heaving vastnesses of unbroken blue.The change happened whilst I slept. Its details I shall never know; for my slumber, though troubled and dream-infested, was continuous. When at last I awaked, it was to discover myself half sucked into a slimy expanse of hellish black mire which extended about me in monotonous undulations as far as I could see, and in which my boat lay grounded some distance away.Though one might well imagine that my first sensation would be of wonder at so prodigious and unexpected a transformation of scenery, I was in reality more horrified than astonished; for there was in the air and in the rotting soil a sinister quality which chilled me to the very core. The region was putrid with the carcasses of decaying fish, and of other less describable things which I saw protruding from the nasty mud of the unending plain. Perhaps I should not hope to convey in mere words the unutterable hideousness that can dwell in absolute silence and barren immensity. There was nothing within hearing, and nothing in sight save a vast reach of black slime; yet the very completeness of the stillness and the homogeneity of the landscape oppressed me with a nauseating fear.The sun was blazing down from a sky which seemed to me almost black in its cloudless cruelty; as though reflecting the inky marsh beneath my feet. As I crawled into the stranded boat I realised that only one theory could explain my position. Through some unprecedented volcanic upheaval, a portion of the ocean floor must have been thrown to the surface, exposing regions which for innumerable millions of years had lain hidden under unfathomable watery depths. So great was the extent of the new land which had risen beneath me, that I could not detect the faintest noise of the surging ocean, strain my ears as I might. Nor were there any sea-fowl to prey upon the dead things.For several hours I sat thinking or brooding in the boat, which lay upon its side and afforded a slight shade as the sun moved across the heavens. As the day progressed, the ground lost some of its stickiness, and seemed likely to dry sufficiently for travelling purposes in a short time. That night I slept but little, and the next day I made for myself a pack containing food and water, preparatory to an overland journey in search of the vanished sea and possible rescue.On the third morning I found the soil dry enough to walk upon with ease. The odour of the fish was maddening; but I was too much concerned with graver things to mind so slight an evil, and set out boldly for an unknown goal. All day I forged steadily westward, guided by a far-away hummock which rose higher than any other elevation on the rolling desert. That night I encamped, and on the following day still travelled toward the hummock, though that object seemed scarcely nearer than when I had first espied it. By the fourth evening I attained the base of the mound, which turned out to be much higher than it had appeared from a distance; an intervening valley setting it out in sharper relief from the general surface. Too weary to ascend, I slept in the shadow of the hill.I know not why my dreams were so wild that night; but ere the waning and fantastically gibbous moon had risen far above the eastern plain, I was awake in a cold perspiration, determined to sleep no more. Such visions as I had experienced were too much for me to endure again. And in the glow of the moon I saw how unwise I had been to travel by day. Without the glare of the parching sun, my journey would have cost me less energy; indeed, I now felt quite able to perform the ascent which had deterred me at sunset. Picking up my pack, I started for the crest of the eminence.I have said that the unbroken monotony of the rolling plain was a source of vague horror to me; but I think my horror was greater when I gained the summit of the mound and looked down the other side into an immeasurable pit or canyon, whose black recesses the moon had not yet soared high enough to illumine. I felt myself on the edge of the world; peering over the rim into a fathomless chaos of eternal night. Through my terror ran curious reminiscences of Paradise Lost, and of Satan’s hideous climb through the unfashioned realms of darkness.As the moon climbed higher in the sky, I began to see that the slopes of the valley were not quite so perpendicular as I had imagined. Ledges and outcroppings of rock afforded fairly easy foot-holds for a descent, whilst after a drop of a few hundred feet, the declivity became very gradual. Urged on by an impulse which I cannot definitely analyse, I scrambled with difficulty down the rocks and stood on the gentler slope beneath, gazing into the Stygian deeps where no light had yet penetrated.All at once my attention was captured by a vast and singular object on the opposite slope, which rose steeply about an hundred yards ahead of me; an object that gleamed whitely in the newly bestowed rays of the ascending moon. That it was merely a gigantic piece of stone, I soon assured myself; but I was conscious of a distinct impression that its contour and position were not altogether the work of Nature. A closer scrutiny filled me with sensations I cannot express; for despite its enormous magnitude, and its position in an abyss which had yawned at the bottom of the sea since the world was young, I perceived beyond a doubt that the strange object was a well-shaped monolith whose massive bulk had known the workmanship and perhaps the worship of living and thinking creatures.Dazed and frightened, yet not without a certain thrill of the scientist’s or archaeologist’s delight, I examined my surroundings more closely. The moon, now near the zenith, shone weirdly and vividly above the towering steeps that hemmed in the chasm, and revealed the fact that a far-flung body of water flowed at the bottom, winding out of sight in both directions, and almost lapping my feet as I stood on the slope. Across the chasm, the wavelets washed the base of the Cyclopean monolith; on whose surface I could now trace both inscriptions and crude sculptures. The writing was in a system of hieroglyphics unknown to me, and unlike anything I had ever seen in books; consisting for the most part of conventionalised aquatic symbols such as fishes, eels, octopi, crustaceans, molluscs, whales, and the like. Several characters obviously represented marine things which are unknown to the modern world, but whose decomposing forms I had observed on the ocean-risen plain.It was the pictorial carving, however, that did most to hold me spellbound. Plainly visible across the intervening water on account of their enormous size, were an array of bas-reliefs whose subjects would have excited the envy of a Doré. I think that these things were supposed to depict men—at least, a certain sort of men; though the creatures were shewn disporting like fishes in the waters of some marine grotto, or paying homage at some monolithic shrine which appeared to be under the waves as well. Of their faces and forms I dare not speak in detail; for the mere remembrance makes me grow faint. Grotesque beyond the imagination of a Poe or a Bulwer, they were damnably human in general outline despite webbed hands and feet, shockingly wide and flabby lips, glassy, bulging eyes, and other features less pleasant to recall. Curiously enough, they seemed to have been chiselled badly out of proportion with their scenic background; for one of the creatures was shewn in the act of killing a whale represented as but little larger than himself. I remarked, as I say, their grotesqueness and strange size; but in a moment decided that they were merely the imaginary gods of some primitive fishing or seafaring tribe; some tribe whose last descendant had perished eras before the first ancestor of the Piltdown or Neanderthal Man was born. Awestruck at this unexpected glimpse into a past beyond the conception of the most daring anthropologist, I stood musing whilst the moon cast queer reflections on the silent channel before me.Then suddenly I saw it. With only a slight churning to mark its rise to the surface, the thing slid into view above the dark waters. Vast, Polyphemus-like, and loathsome, it darted like a stupendous monster of nightmares to the monolith, about which it flung its gigantic scaly arms, the while it bowed its hideous head and gave vent to certain measured sounds. I think I went mad then.Of my frantic ascent of the slope and cliff, and of my delirious journey back to the stranded boat, I remember little. I believe I sang a great deal, and laughed oddly when I was unable to sing. I have indistinct recollections of a great storm some time after I reached the boat; at any rate, I know that I heard peals of thunder and other tones which Nature utters only in her wildest moods.When I came out of the shadows I was in a San Francisco hospital; brought thither by the captain of the American ship which had picked up my boat in mid-ocean. In my delirium I had said much, but found that my words had been given scant attention. Of any land upheaval in the Pacific, my rescuers knew nothing; nor did I deem it necessary to insist upon a thing which I knew they could not believe. Once I sought out a celebrated ethnologist, and amused him with peculiar questions regarding the ancient Philistine legend of Dagon, the Fish-God; but soon perceiving that he was hopelessly conventional, I did not press my inquiries.It is at night, especially when the moon is gibbous and waning, that I see the thing. I tried morphine; but the drug has given only transient surcease, and has drawn me into its clutches as a hopeless slave. So now I am to end it all, having written a full account for the information or the contemptuous amusement of my fellow-men. Often I ask myself if it could not all have been a pure phantasm—a mere freak of fever as I lay sun-stricken and raving in the open boat after my escape from the German man-of-war. This I ask myself, but ever does there come before me a hideously vivid vision in reply. I cannot think of the deep sea without shuddering at the nameless things that may at this very moment be crawling and floundering on its slimy bed, worshipping their ancient stone idols and carving their own detestable likenesses on submarine obelisks of water-soaked granite. I dream of a day when they may rise above the billows to drag down in their reeking talons the remnants of puny, war-exhausted mankind—of a day when the land shall sink, and the dark ocean floor shall ascend amidst universal pandemonium.The end is near. I hear a noise at the door, as of some immense slippery body lumbering against it. It shall not find me. God, that hand! The window! The window!“

The end

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livinlikeleon · 3 years

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Lil Nas X Gives Satan A Lapdance In New Video: Twitter Reacts

Lil Nas X's new video is definitely going to piss some people off.

At long last, the music video for Lil Nas X's new single "MONTERO (Call Me By Your Name)" has been released after nearly a full year of teasing. The song has gone viral on social media more than a few times already but, with the release of the music video, it's sure to rile up the masses even more.

Much like "WAP" was used by conservatives to have a non-existent debate about culture and the influence of entertainers, it's almost as though Lil Nas X is trying to frustrate that same crowd with his latest video. The queer anthem begins with Lil Nas X explaining that, in life, we often hide the parts of ourselves that we don't want the world to see. It took almost twenty years for LNX to come to grips with his sexuality but, in "MONTERO (Call Me By Your Name)", he's fully embracing himself as a gay man, trolling the world in the process.

The highly-stylized video begins with Lil Nas X exploring this new fantastical world before he starts his ascent to Heaven. Once he nearly reaches God though, he begins to slide down a pole, twirling around and stumbling into Hell. He walks up flirtatiously to the Devil and gives him a lapdance, which is sure to trigger homophobes and bigots across social media.

The video is currently trending at #2 on YouTube as it has already picked up over a million views in under twenty-four hours. This continues Lil Nas X's tremendous string of high-budget music videos that perfectly unpack the world he's created for himself, and people are seriously loving it so far.

https://www.hotnewhiphop.com/lil-nas-x-gives-satan-a-lapdance-in-new-video-twitter-reacts-news.129096.html

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halloweenvalentine1997 · 7 years

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Cupola Avenue

My lucidity died in the house I grew up in. I was raised in an arcane Hitchcock mansion with a cupola. There were no servants due to my guardian, Scarlett Freeland’s, illicit exploitation, and her fear of it being discovered. Therefore, she let everything collect dust. Her mansion was tall and monumental. It reminded me of a Halloween sticker decoration one puts on a windowpane. On our street, Cupola Avenue, named for the cupolas on each house, I suffered many seasons of violent turmoil at the hands of Scarlett. She owned a video camera that she balanced on top of a tripod and told me it was my “surveillance.” On several occasions, at the age of thirteen, I was raped by a multitude of strange men that Scarlett invited inside. She would put 80's hair metal on the stereo while they raped me and she sat in a red armchair, smoking numerous cigarettes. Sometimes, I wouldn’t get raped and instead it would be my deed, according to every person in the room, to kill a person in front of me. I’ve killed 37 people in Scarlett’s house, each one dissolved with acid in the cupola on film, and killed on film as well, before being doused with acid. Each time this event happened, it was recorded and burned onto a disc to be viewed on Scarlett’s TV. There were only two other houses on Cupola Avenue: the Tarringtons' house and the Miltons' house. Clyde Tarrington lived in a two-story house painted white with black shutters. He lived there with his daughter, Blithe. On their front door was a poster of a symbol that held a cryptic enchantment for me: a cross with an hourglass in the center of it. It always reminded me of their time running out. I had wanted to kill Blithe for so many years. I felt her to be prettier than me with her lustrous black hair and piercing green eyes. She always loved to remind me of how I would have been killed by my twin sister, Adele, had she lived. In the womb, she was the alpha and I was the omega. On a rainy day when lightning split the sky into slices, Adele and me were playing dress-up with red velvet gowns and silver high heels. We were twelve. I convinced her into a “baptism,” holding her head underwater. Despite my carrying the title of the omega twin, my newfound strength prevailed and she soon ceased to breathe.

When Scarlett found out, she didn’t seem to care. Neither did the rest of the neighborhood; they were always killing people. We melted her body into the floor of the cupola with acid. My name used to be Lillian Freeland, but once my twin was dead, I uncontrollably became someone named June. She came to me, like a doppelganger, looking exactly like me, but bearing no evil intentions. “I am here, and I am not leaving you,” June told me. I regret killing Adele despite her greater knowledge of schoolwork. We were both homeschooled and Scarlett never told us what she did for a living. I learned later on that she worked for the federal government.

My liberation from Scarlett’s persistent and unyielding abuse came on the day of my eighteenth birthday, April 17. After she made me read Tennyson’s “The Lady of Shallot” to two men, who raped me when I was done, and when they had left, I waited for Scarlett to go upstairs and watch one of her movies. I sauntered to the garage and snatched an axe, the same one Scarlett used in satanic rituals when she was young. I made the predatory ascent up the stairs and into her bedroom. Then, as though she were a chopping block and as though her sanguine bloodflow was sacred, I swung the axe down upon her skull. Hard. She was watching The Caretakers, a black and white movie about women in group therapy. She fell to the side, writhing in pain. I went to the front of the chair and brought the axe down upon her back until her spinal cord was severed and her tenebrous heart gave out. I left her there and ran back downstairs, screaming the whole way. Next, I opened Scarlett’s freezer and grabbed a carton of Marlboro 100's, lit one, and burned the subtle swastikas hidden in the patterns of an Oriental rug. I gazed around me, took in the contents of the living room: the Kit-Kat clock shaped like a black cat with bulging eyes, the white topaz chandelier, the gutted hearth, the period furniture. I decided it was time to leave my home behind forever. I grabbed a pink backpack and shoved the carton of cigarettes inside, along with a drawer full of working Bic lighters. I threw in three shirts, six pairs of socks, six pairs of underwear, two pairs of pants, a journal, a pen, and a gun. I topped off the luggage with some rubber vampire teeth I endeavored to save for a malevolent purpose: murdering Blithe Tarrington. I put my hand on the gun as I walked outside, holding it securely within the large pocket of my forest green trench coat. To my knowledge, the Miltons across the street were always killing people (Scarlett always said so.), but I didn’t know how they felt about Blithe. I didn’t care. I rang the doorbell, staring down the cross and hourglass on the door’s poster. Luckily, Blithe answered the door. I pulled out the gun, and her face became as stricken as one being lashed with a switch. “Get inside,” I gnashed, pushing her onto the floor and slamming the door behind me. “And don’t get up. Don’t even talk.” She talked anyway. “Lillian, please don’t kill me. You don’t have to - “ “But I want to, and I can, and I will kill you and nothing will ever be able to resurrect you!” “What’s going on with that Freeland bitch? Why is she in my house?” screamed Clyde, who had just descended the stairs. I shot him in the head, and he slumped over, instantaneously dead. “You’ve been killing people in this house for years, and it’s time to go!” I vociferated over her harrowed wailing. “Now, put these in.” I unzipped my backpack and handed her the rubber vampire teeth. She stared at me, wide-eyed with feral fear. She did nothing. She said nothing. “Your mouth, dummy. Put them in your mouth.” I handed her the teeth, and she took them from me and placed them over her own toothpaste commercial-white teeth.

“You look the very caricature of Halloween,” I said, laughing as I blew out her brains. The remains flew against the wall and painted an inkblot test of blood smears everywhere. I walked into Blithe’s bedroom after I was sure she was dead, and saw a purple canopied bed, a bookshelf filled with many classic and contemporary novels, among them: the Brontes, Oscar Wilde, Theodore Dreiser, Jane Austen, Anais Nin, D.H. Lawrence. I grabbed Nin’s House of Incest, Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray and Charlotte Bronte’s Villette, and left the house. I didn’t make it very far. I was down the road not very far when I was arrested. I always feared them coming for me. I fell onto the asphalt, scabbing my knees and not feeling it. I denied what was happening. I muttered to myself incoherently. “We know you killed some people, Lillian.” “My name is June,” was all that I said before my mind shut off and I suddenly woke up vegetative in a jail cell.

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Eventually, I was labelled not guilty by reason of insanity. The police found Scarlett’s recordings and the recordings that the Miltons and the Tarringtons made of their own killings when I told them about the neighborhood, and what Scarlett had done to me. One day, I will get out of the forensics services ward, where the criminally insane are housed. I have spent many nights here, remembering the death and ravagings, my hair coiling like Medusa’s on the pillow of the restraint bed, the leather straps leaving black bruises on my wrists. Every night, I pray to God and Jesus and all the saints that ever were that I’ll be forgiven for my killings, and be accepted into a realm I can call heaven. My lucidity will live again, resurged.

- Vivica Salem

#cupola avenue #vivica salem #2017 #rewrote this brat story in jail #prose

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