The Pure Life of Dreams

July 25, 2024July 25, 2024

Sexual Assault by Highway Robber

I was in a marketplace in England, a huge wooden covered structure which sold vegetables and fruit. I was trying to get out but somehow I was stuck behind a chain link fence that surrounded the perimeter of the marketplace. Ivy covered the chain links and made it slippery and hard to climb.

As I climbed, I saw police cars with Baltimore markings screech to a stop across the road. The road was on the other side of the fence. Detectives got out from their cars and stood next to them. They were looking for something or someone, I wasn’t sure.

I climbed it the fence a couple more steps and saw a gap in the ivy, although it was small, no larger than my head. I could not easily see my way out through it but perhaps it marked a way to get out that I hadn’t quite worked out.

It was then that I saw the woman who ran the market, a bossy square boned fleshy woman with blonde hair and white lacy blouse.

I watched the woman through the gap in the ivy, but what happened next was the shocking part and I couldn’t tell if what followed was for real…

On the other side of the fence, towards the perimeter of the market and in front of a display of oranges, a man with a black cape and a highway robber’s mask, his back facing me, pushed the manager down onto the stone floor.

~~She lay with her legs closest, her head closer to the oranges.~~

With his right hand the robber aimed a long green garden hose at her and sprayed her with water by pressing his thumb to the hole, until her jeans turned dark blue and her blouse became wet through.

The woman screamed and fought, and rolled side to side, to avoid the force of the water.

The robber leant over her as she lay face up and flat on the ground, and with his left hand he yanked at her blouse, pulled it up over her head; pulled it so that blouse, undershirt, even her bra came off in one go, and she was naked from the waist up.

Her breasts, flat against her chest jiggled with the force of the water hose.

Then the robber tugged at her soaked jeans.

The jeans stuck to her tapered legs and they were difficult to remove, but finally, with both hands, he was able to force down her jeans and panties so that she was now fully naked but for her pink plastic sandals.

The robber then unbuckled the sandals, slid them off her dainty feet and in one aggressive twist he pushed together her hands and bare feet above her belly and he bound her limbs, tied them together using the buckles from the sandals.

I pushed aside the ivy to make the hole bigger, and squinted to see past the robber, to see better what was going on.

The naked woman was tightly bound in a ball. Loudly she squealed, even though, from my vantage point, her head was out of view behind her bindings…

In my hand was a DVD and the cover of the DVD showed the masked highway robber and the blonde woman bound up the same way, with her sandals.

The highway robber was facing the camera and her flighty brown locks flowed over her shoulders, for she was a woman after all, not a man.

The robber’s mask covered her eyes but not her eyebrows, and whimsically she curved and flicked her thick dark brows up and down several times to suggest that the whole thing was a prank, that the scene was a set up. A set up that the woman who ran the marketplace had staged for her, for their sexual pleasure.

Photo by McKay Savage via Flickr.

July 18, 2024July 24, 2024

Renovating the House with the Monks’ Corridor

It was the place with the long monks’ corridor in the basement, marble muted brown coral swirled walls… The place with the crumbling bedroom walls, each room decorated in a different style, some with ornate cat wallpaper, others Victorian but they all had their plaster crumbling behind…

July 12, 2024July 12, 2024

Ethiopian Theater and the Hidden Stage

It was night already as the bus bumped its way through the town of old Addis Ababa.

I was with Liam at the back. The open windows allowed us to peak out onto dim lit streets, street seller stalls dotted along the sidewalks, open spaced parks with meandering iron-post lamps followed their paths.

Liam and I had gone off to take a nap in the sleep house while Lizzie and Siobhan separately went shopping. But now we had to join them to see the play at the old theater.

I held Baby Liam in my arms on the bus and together we looked out through the windows of the bus.

And once we arrived at the old theater building there was already quite a crowd.

The building was yellow with red lined Ethiopian text above the huge double oak doors which also had red lined trim. The text was embossed against the flat of the wall.

The steps leading up to the doors were packed with people jostling to get in.

I spotted Lizzie, she was half way up the steps, and I called ahead to her. I knew that we had seats up in the balcony but we had to get the tickets first.

“We’re here. You got the tickets?” I yelled over to her and unexpectedly, she turned when she heard me.

Lizzie spread the tickets out in her hand, four of them, like they were a tarot deck, shiny and dark green and she reached over to us with them, as we pushed our way up the steps.

The four of us passed through the doors and together we climbed the stairs to the balcony.

All the seats were covered in white sheets, apart from a kid’s size wicker chair that was positioned in the aisle, next to our row. The chair was painted red and brown and must have been for the porter.

At the front there was a cream colored curtain and no view, apart from a slit at foot level were you could peak through to the ceiling of the stage.

Siobhan started complaining about the view.

“It’s the same with everyone,” I told her but the porter indicated the wicker chair for her if she wanted.

“I don’t want that!” she complained again.

We inched along our row, some three rows back from the front. Baby Liam went first and then myself, followed by Lizzie and Siobhan.

Liam was fussing by the time we were all seated. He sat next to an elderly couple who were sat by the wall. They wore brown turbans and long white jellabas and, on their robes, he sprayed grey felt pieces that he’d found from somewhere. They were from the seat cushions, I thought, as he continued to break apart more felt.

In front of us, from the balcony roof, were suspended ornate dark wooden lamps. They were unlit, and instead the balcony sconces were on.

“Liam is going to have swap places,” I called over to Siobhan.

“Why?” She was irritated.

“He’s making a mess with the couple next to him.”

So Liam and Lizzie swapped places just as the lights dimmed.

The cream colored curtain rose, and with it were raised the orchestra and the stage, so that both were directly in front us. The orchestra in front of the stage, a magnificent entrance.

And the view was perfect apart from where the cellist and the stringed instruments sat, where the tops of their instruments poked above the floor of the stage.

Then the musicians started up a low dirge but I wasn’t sure how long we would last.

I mean it wasn’t Broadway or the West End.

Photo by Steffen Wurzel via WikiMedia Commons.

July 4, 2024July 8, 2024

The Intoxication of the Woman with Silver Hair

I was hosting a party and it was getting late. I stood in the kitchen, a long galley place with muted brown oak panelling but even though many people crowded around me I wanted to retire to my bed.

From one end of the kitchen into the bedroom I slipped out, and I went over to my pullout bed. Only a crack of light shone from the bedroom door back through to the kitchen.

June 29, 2024July 8, 2024

Are You A Sane Person?

“Are you a sane person?” she asked.

We walked up the dirt path away from the lecture hall. She had straight blonde hair, a cute pug nose and an open smile. To the right of her was a tall bamboo forest.

“Only on Sundays,” I replied and then uncertainly, “Do you want me to be?”

I noticed that her shoes were black and round, like horse hooves, with a buckle strap to hold them on to her feet. Shawn told me she wore loafers, or was he referring to a different girl?

Shawn and I had been sitting at the back of the lecture hall. I’d been with him most of the time. In front of us, kids were sat at trestle tables which lay scattered across the parquet and not aligned in rows.

When the lecturer, like a quarterback, threw a rubber football at the kids they threw it back. Each throw was to illustrate a point. But one time the football travelled further and Shawn had thrown it back.

The kids in front were bunched up to the left of the lecture hall because of the direction of the previous throws. And when the lecturer threw it the next time it landed with me.

I thought to give the football to Shawn at first but he wasn’t going to take it. I’d never thrown a football before, or I hadn’t thrown one well, at least. I could throw it back, as if it was a soccer ball or, it being small enough, I could treat it like a cricket ball and put spin on it. It would be more convenient to throw it with my right hand given that the kids in front were to our left, but I was left handed and my right hand was lousy at throwing. I threw it back anyway with my left hand… As normal as I could throw a football with my wrong hand anyway.

A man passed in front of our trestle table just as I was about to hold Shawn’s hand. The man wore a shiny lavender pink shirt. And it was then that Shawn mentioned the girl’s loafers.

“I like that boys shirt,” I said, as Shawn and I got up to leave.

I thought he’d think me gay for liking the shirt but I wasn’t.

“The lavender pink one,” I continued.

“You mean the shiny one?” Shawn replied.

“Yes,” I said.

And then I left him and caught up with the girl with the cute pug nose and blonde hair and the non-loafer black shoes.

After I’d responded to her question, she’d looked at me and smiled back with an open smile, and the bamboo forest was green behind her.

Photo via Picryl.