Sunday, March 10, 2013


That night in the woods, sound came from the wrong places. I heard words that no one else heard. Everything that came into my peripheral vision startled me, snuck up on me like wicked little birds and pecked into my field of vision. I had a feeling of dread. A fear of sharp and dark things. Voices. I was instantly irritable. I didn't want to be touched, to be spoken to. Only the sound of owls cut through my terror and made me feel connected to the world again.

Coyote. Oh Coyote. What's happening to me?

"You might be having dreamgraines," Dream Coyote told me.

"There's really only one way to find out. We need to clean off your Mind Threads and look at them. We need to clear out the messiness of your mind. Here's how we'll start. Pour this solution into your ear, let it stay there for a count of 33. Then tip the contents into this this glass jar."

I pour Coyote's solution into my ear. I hold my head sideways so it won't dribble down my face. I count to 33, as Coyote instructs. And then I place the glass jar over my ear and tip my head to the other side. A clear fluid pours from my ear, filling the jar. Little bloody filaments of red swirl around in it. More and more filaments--they just keep trickling out out out. The filaments are the Mind Noise that doesn't allow Coyote to see my Mind Threads clearly. Expelling them stings a little, and my inner ear feels very wrong after enduring this process.

And how will we look inside my mind, Coyote?

"There is a way. I'll show you."

And Coyote's eyes, his ferocious eyes, flutter and look backwards into his own head. I see only the veined whites of eyeballs looking at me.

"You must do the same, birdheart."

And it hurts, but I look up first, into the treetops. And then I keep going. My eyes look up up up and backwards into my own mind. And I am surprised to see Coyote there in my mind, inspecting. Mind Threads spread into sticky spiderwebs. Glowing droplets move along the threads and collect as beads.

But I don't know how to read Mind Threads. How does it look, Coyote?

Coyote shakes his head sadly.

"It doesn't look good, birdheart."

1 comment:

  1. Philip Feldman Gallery...HA!
    If that is the Mt. Hood Chemical Philip Feldman he was a plagiarist and patron of robber-barons.

    A wretched bit of DNA but then again...what DNA ain't awful?