First Dream.
I was right over there, looking at'e toffee twists & croissants, all the sugary sweet stuff, yeknow, yum yum, taking my time when I says I'll come back, I want to look at all the cereal.
I notice that there are guitars strewn all over the shop, not on shelves or stands or non. I thought this wase grocery store but ok, so I pick one up, give her a strum.
- Jeh jeh jeh jeh jeh
Oh, looky, it's the cereal. Alle colours and cartoon pirates, aminals & the fucken leprechaun throws me a wink, says his granny's from Cork & that he's been to Ireland but only Dublin.
Thene realise've left me ciggies o'er there on the milk kiosk or wh'er ye call it, so I go'er to get 'em & now there's a gaggle of fellas, the boisterous suited baldy types, gathered there. Fuck'n great says I. These big bloody bastards are standing 'tween me and me fags.
One fella, the leader of 'em, whips out a big ole ziplock bag of cocaine & pours it out onto the milk kiosk. I assume he is the leader for he holds the coke. As the coke falls from the bag, it fooms into a cloud somelike dust or flour & now its all over me black shirt, up me nostrils, the lot, fuck sake.
- ATCHOO
I'm reaching for me cigs, all Excuse me, when the fella cutting lines says t'me, This isn't for you, so I says to him, You're dead right, pal. I grab me cigs & get out of there, feeling like a mad yoke altogether, fucked up, holy shit, feeling great, unbelieved of alle coke wots over me.
- HOOSH! OKAY BABY HERE GOES
I need to go to bed & process all this madness, but then I remember that my bedroom is inside of a retail unit & it's coming up on closing time, at which point it dawns on me that I'm inside of a dream & I find this just hilarious.
BUT HEY
- FREE COCAINE
Second Dream
I'm back over at the sweets, drooling down my front, fiending hellishly.
- triple chocolate walnut brownie, stop it.
Every item seems to shine at me naughtily & I dare not think about what I have become, though I suspect som wan ghoul.
- cookiecookiecookie kiss me.
Me mother appears o'er me shoulder as ife magic and she says, Cillin, what the fuck is wrong with you.
I says, Sorry, mothery. I'me bit high on cocaine by accident.
She forms an expression whereby her face cracks like a mirror, says I'm to explain meself.
Welle I was havin' this dream and I was right over there by the yumyums, and they had all these guitars lying about, but that was only in the dream, but aye, I was over there by the yumyums but there were these fellas doin' coke off the milk kiosk and there was a big fuck-off cloud of it and I ended up ingesting some of it secondhand, I suppose.
- Thoughte was a dream wasnot?
- Yea, bute think am high on cocaine Mam. It's funny that, isn't it?
Third Dream.
The sun belts down, green gleam ofe leaves from alltheway up there - turmoil hidden behind dark shades, soldiering on along a wide sticky road, cars passing in vrooms & blurs.
Slow, heavy ase elephant.
There left, a Seattlite hill leads to the sky, pointing homewards with a rockpath that suggests mountaineering. I climb the hill one stretch of leg at a time, bunglesome & gross, my head like bread for the ducks.
- (fucken knackered)
Thene comes two wee familiar voices from behind me.
- Hey!
- Hey!
Och, sher look, isnt it only Billy & Meg, all fancy meeting you here. I ask them if they've come to carry me up this fucking hill. Wee laughs, tellme t'go fuck meself, soe says what are you doing down this way then?
- We've band practice at your place 'cos Danbro was full, Bill tells me.
Yer having me on, says I. I don't even play ine band. I stopped playing in bands when I realised I wasn't a musician & I realised I wasn't a musician when I woke up one day to realise all my instruments where just items of furniture. I have come a long way & have realised many things but this fucking hill.
- So we're not practicing? Meg asks.
I respond non for a moment, nestle down 'tween two white stones, the holy state of me, shirt all sweat and powdered, which reminds me. Dide tell ye boute cocaine? I says.
Meg shakes her head, arms folded.
Billy doese groovy wee shuffle, shirte colour of icecream.
- I was there lookne croissants & cookies, alle that yeknow, by the counter with all the napkins & that, et cetera, when these three business fellas come over, poure loade coke out of a sandwich bag & now look! Is all over me shirt!
- Take a huff & you'll be strong enough, Bill says.
(A painful laughter, going & going)
(That fucking hill)
But yeknow, I figure there's som truth to Bill's words & in all honesty a wee bitte coke is the only thing for the job, so I take a corner of me shirt, raise it to me nose and start huffing with both nostrils but I'm so soaked in sweat that there's non on there dry enough to huff so the move would be to drain it out of there.
- In the gob, says Meg. She's on the money there, so I shove the shirt in me mouth and start sucking. I taste the wet mix of sweat, cotton & saliva & there in there is the baking soda taste of the coke. I swirl the mixture round me mouth as I continue to suck, letting it swash over me gums, when I feel them getting numb.
HOOSH.
AND I'M BACK BABY, READY TO PLAY SOME FUCKING FURNITURE, EAT THIS HILL FOR BLOODY BREKKIE
- COOKIECOOKIECOOKIE KISS ME
THISE HILL MEANS NON T'ME, NO DOES!
***
I wake up in the house I grew up in, and sure isn't drink a divil altogether?
No comments:
Post a Comment