Oklahoma City, Oklahoma 2021-10-22 19:39:53 –
Polar Sophia Shonauer, LCSW, continues to make continuous memoirs. If you haven’t read the first half of this series yet, follow the links at the bottom of this page.
“Everyone watching” Deep Throat “sees me being raped. “
― Linda Lovelace, trial
I had this dream. I was walking along the hedge on a warm and sunny day. The neighborhood was quiet and calm, with birds singing and squirrels singing. There is no traffic on the streets, no horns, and there is a refreshing but not cold air filled with the scent of autumn resting from the long, hot summers, rather than the decline near the beginning of winter. It was as close to heaven as I ever knew. I felt safe. No one stalked or cursed me.
Then I was disappointed to hear something crackling in the hedge and seeing the dark ones initially shapeless and at the same time passing through Bruns, a muscular and threatening black tendril. .. I couldn’t move. The darkness was in the shape of a giant hand, which grabbed my right arm, shook it, and I screamed and almost tore it from the socket.
I woke up to see my dad squeezing his wrist and waving his arm. Frightened in a bad mood, I pulled him away and snatched his arm from his hand. I flipped to my left and was frightened and confused.
“So you don’t want to have breakfast?” Dad said the confusing threat of his voice was probably hurt by my impulsive reaction to his overture. Immediately I felt sick.
I loved pancakes. I sat down on the bed and stared at my dad in the semi-darkness. I could identify the shape of his eyes and face, the angular concave surface, and the darkness under his cheekbones. I think he smiled, but I didn’t see his teeth. The chills overwhelmed me when I thought about Boris Karloff’s portrayal of The Mummy.
“Now get dressed.”
At 2:00 am, the road was almost empty, with occasional winding cars crossing the lane and tentatively crossing the intersection, remaining stationary after the lights turned green.
“It’s a drunk driver,” said Dad aloud his thoughts. He did not overtake the car, but chased it at a safe distance. The car turned left on the bus road, a winding two-lane highway plunged into the Ohio Valley, trees swarming on the sides, overhanging branches, creating the effect of a dark tunnel.
The drunk driver shook the curve and was about to collide head-on with an oncoming vehicle. Then it went off the road, plunged over his shoulder, fell into Garry, where he suddenly stopped. Dust burned up behind the car, creating an eerie mist that glowed red from the taillights. Dad kept driving and didn’t speed up or down.
“I don’t want to be that guy,” he said.
“He may need help.”
“It’s not our problem. Are you still hungry?”
I looked back on the accident site, which is decreasing with distance. I could still see the red fog and headlights of the approaching car. I wanted them to quit.
“Yes, I’m still hungry,” I said, but I was still worried about the accident.
“In another universe, the man did not crash.”
“In another universe, he doesn’t even exist. You don’t exist anywhere in another universe.”
I remembered this episode in Star Trek when I returned to the 1930s after Kirk and Spock stumbled upon a temporary gate. “Like Star Trek?”
“Yes, it’s a kind.”
The possibilities were intriguing. Maybe in another universe I was a girl she wanted to be a boy, and I wondered how to connect and switch places, switch minds, or what it does thought.
After a while, I saw a pure white light shining near the top of the grove. Lights were shining on a huge sign advertising a nearby truck stop. Soon, Dad drove a car into a parking lot full of semi-trucks and trailers, a chorus-groaning diesel engine, and the pungent smell of diesel fuel in the air. Despite midnight, the truck stops were busy, men went in and out of the truck cab, and some women were busy.
A woman got out of the taxi and headed for the restaurant entrance. She wasn’t very dressed, a short skirt, a halter top, and a thin jacket with beaded laces. She had long blonde hair and wore high heel shoes. I thought she looked like a hippie, but her face was a little weathered and her eyes were open as if she had just awakened from a long sleep. Her eyes bothered me. They didn’t shine in life, they were just dim, like zombies. I feel sorry for her. She didn’t seem to want to be there.
“Welcome to the trick stop,” said Dad.
“Trick stop? Dad, it’s a truck stop.”
The woman saw her dad with eyes recording his presence, a smile, and maybe a sneer on her lips. They seemed to recognize each other.
“You avoid it,” said Dad.
The woman frowned and frowned at her father. They knew each other, and it wondered to me. Maybe they knew each other at school.
We went to a restaurant crowded with truck drivers. Some people in the group, alone, sitting at the counter or booth, drinking coffee, staring at the universe exhausted, stubble, wearing blue jeans and coveralls, plaid shirts and T-shirts. Ball cap.
Occasionally someone called a number from the speaker and said they were ready for the shower. No one looked as lonely as these guys, but after all, it was about 3 o’clock in the morning. I was starting to sleep myself. I was only half interested in the pancake pile in front of me.
I slept all the way to my house, mesmerized into the house and climbed the stairs to my bedroom. It was dark outside, but I heard a lot of birds singing. I never got up so early or late. I enjoyed snuggling up in bed, but my dad had a different idea.
He took me to the bathroom and saw me standing and dropping a small projector from the top shelf of the linen closet next to the bathtub. He also grabbed a box full of film on a small reel of 45 records or less. Dad wandered around the box and shouted with excitement when he found what he was looking for. He passed the film through a projector, plugged the cord into the wall, turned it on, and projected the image onto the shower curtain.
There was no sound in the movie, but I didn’t know if my dad muted it or if the movie was silent. It looked rough and amateur to the eyes of 10 years old.
The man undressed the woman, petted her, breathed violently, and acted with excitement. He dropped his pants and tore his shirt. I noticed that the woman had long blonde hair and a weathered face. The man took off the woman’s bra, wrapped her breasts in both hands and pressed hard. She fell to bed and was about to bounce off the floor in a shock. He crawled over her.
Her eyes caught my attention, glazed, almost shining, and her mouth twisted as she bit her lower lip to avoid crying. Then her eyes became empty, staring at the universe as if she had left her body, and seeing her as if she were a woman at a truck stop. My heart drifted, but I could still hear the voices of birds outside, and their songs echoed in my ears.
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Last updated: October 22, 2021 18:39 Brett Dickerson-Editor
Manhood – from the inside out Source link Manhood – from the inside out