“Albinos! Why didn’t I think of that before! Albinos are the natural day walkers with their natural super sensitivity to the sun. It all makes perfect sense. Cast them as the new race but with a little something extra like the children from the ‘City Of The Damned’, a murderous torturous side as opposed to those whose whole face opens to suck the life out of their prey. Vampires who experiment on vampires to create the master race, as petty as humans sacrificing their children although the coldness makes sense but there is so much passion in making another. In keeping with tradition sunlight gets the better of everyone one way or another. It might be interesting to be able to psychically drain the blood from a victim as opposed to forcing them to hurt themselves making these new vamps who’ve naturally evolved a threat like no other. Snipers? High acuity opening up a new door as to how to stop them. Should they be able to drain the blood from super slayers, should there be an issue with that, should it be hopeless? Psycho-thriller vampires you can never get rid of worse than Michael Myers giving a whole new meaning to when blood runs cold, cold-blooded, yes and yes. Brilliant!”
Now all Marie had to do was sell the flood of ideas to Jeff and Christof.
“Is it really like that when you die?”
We were watching the Book Of Life. In the land of the dead there is more life and celebration than when people are alive especially on the Day Of The Dead.
“I don’t know sweetie.”
I was going to say that no one has ever come back to tell anyone about what happens at the same time flashing back to when I saw my grandfather after he’d passed. Was it a dream? Certainly wasn’t what my definition of a vision was in those days. I walked into a luncheonette and he was sitting at a booth. I almost walked past suddenly recognizing him. He had his head down chuckling like he did when he was playing a joke. I got excited and teary never expecting to see him again overwhelmed he’d come to see me and he frowned as if I were being absurd. I guess I was. He loved me. Should I ever have doubted it? He looked good, young and healthy. I think I hugged him. The same thing happened with my grandmother. She was on a sidewalk on a street like we lived in Yonkers, residential homes in a row shaded by trees. She was in a dress like she’d worn when she was younger wearing a pair of shoes with stacked heels. How could I have known? I was no more than an infant if that. I might not have even been a thought yet. She walked briskly, looked so healthy and in great shape. There were other relatives. They all looked good completely free of pain. Not in any of that had anyone talked about what happens or where they’d been hanging out these days. No tunnels, no lights, no voices calling, besides, I was still alive.
He spoke before I could offer an explanation, as if, or an insight.
“Well when you die you’ll have to take your iPad.”
“Do you want me to send you pictures?”
He became quiet watching all that went on.
“Your iPad will have to die too.”
“So I can send a message then?”
“Yes you can tell me.”
An interesting array of movies to watch. The first about a psycho newlywed husband who tried to keep his new bride prisoner on an island. Ok. Then one set on an Hawaiian island with a lot of emotion, healing, bratty drama, and a handsome island man who didn’t get the girl because she decided to stay with her husband… yadda, yadda, eh. Then it was Wolf Town opening set in the 49ers era. Someone is attacked by a wolf, will s/he transform? It jumps to present day with 4 young people taking a road trip back to the now ghost town. The wimpy kid college student sees a wolf. They gaze into each other’s eyes but no attack. Maybe wimps make wimpy werewolves. What else is there to think? His friend stomps off after disagreeing about why they are there, no one believes he saw a wolf anyway, and gets attacked. They carry him to the car but wolves have eaten the ignition and took the purse with the cell. Smarty werewolves? There’s always hope. They drag him back and huddle for safety. Cut to a full moon, howling, and anticipation that the friend will join the pack, possibly eat his friends but nothing happens. Another guy’s chest gets torn to shreds leaving wimpy and the girl whose leg had gotten chewed but she’s ok otherwise. Will both mutilated guys just become wolves then? Will the first kid who died become a wolf but help the others to escape? Mystical music sounds but still no werewolf or wolf action. The angry wolves don’t want people in their town we learn – don’t ask. After all the high intelligence they’re dumb enough to follow the wimpy kid into the building with the dynamite and get themselves blown up, well; all but the one wolf who didn’t attack anyone. He’s a presence while the pack creates mayhem. Wimpy and the girl begin to limp into the sunset, cross paths with the wolf, then turn to go separate ways. “Why doesn’t he attack us” she asks. “He just wants his town back, he doesn’t want to hurt us” wimpy says.
Well, my hopes were dashed…
“Was I a vampire in a past life? Why are mornings so offensive…” or at least I used to think so when I was younger. How I loved the night and never wanted the sun to come up. That’s definitely food for thought. Somehow over time I evolved to a day-walker. I love getting up early as the sun rises, even going out on the balcony to feel its warmth. I tan pretty good. Geez, why am I so groggy? Whatever I was in the past I know I wasn’t overindulging in blood last night. Sinus nosebleeds are bad enough besides I hate the taste of blood anymore. The blood is the life, ha, what does Dracula know anyway. They killed him he’s dead, so much for immortality. Yeah, if I don’t nod out typing this I’m definitely making coffee. Huh, when I yawn the keyboard gets blurry. Too dumb to go back to sleep… and I need another tissue. At least the coffee will cover the taste of blood running down my throat.”
Crazy thoughts or not but can I turn them into a story – forever the million dollar question.
What I know is I’m enjoying the cool breeze for now; later on it’s going to be in the 90s and I’ll get the espresso pot percolating shortly. My gosh I can’t stop yawning. That crazy dream I had last night. Was there a message? It’s lost if there were, I can’t recall it at all but I dreamt. I know I did. Had to do with that movie, the obsessive boyfriend-husband, his secret lock box, and not wanting to leave the lake they went to for their honeymoon, devil’s lake. Can’t help but wonder if he didn’t kill his father but the tension was building and I had to stop watching. Maybe I’ll pick up on it with renewed stamina, stamina. I’m so groggy
In media of in media res, realities blur, and the million-dollar question remains.
I have the collection and as the marathon continues on it occurs to me it never occurred to me how often Mel Gibson gets naked – he owns the love scenes, or wakes up in the morning and walks away from the camera. Well, wha’d’ya’know, he sleeps naked too. Hit the pause button, crack a beer and sit back… nah, I’d go for an ice cold martini, salute, let the movie play and don’t be lookin’ for a tip.
I remember, don’t ask why the thought was triggered, when I was in medical and finally getting back to school – can’t be promoted to doctor after all – that it took me a minute to put my finger on what was different at the university… the lightbulb came on and I laughed at myself – everyone was dressed. It would have made more sense, or wouldn’t have phased me if most of the student population walked around naked. Changing dressings, helping folks to the bathroom, changing sheets and chux, keeping on top of skin care, bed sores, in other words seeing nudity most of the day, every day, I think gives a healthier outlook, a different appreciation you could call it. There was one woman I just might always remember who had an open wound that needed to be packed each day. It was a wide smile across her generously rotund belly. We looked forward to seeing each other to BS recipes. I removed the gauze, pulled out the thin packing strips, cleansed it of course, packed it again, covered it with fresh gauze… what did we talk about during the procedure but meatloaf recipes. Now in my family we had a specific way using tomato soup as a sauce, the benefit being potatoes, carrots, onions could be cut up, spread around the loaf, and the whole thing could bubble to perfection in the oven – a one pot meal. As I worked I felt aware of how far I’d come in this profession, what terrific people I’d met, nudity, not nudity didn’t matter and appreciated the humor of our discussion over a sliced open belly, the same to me as not opened at all.
Some birds sing at 3am
Are they up to catch the worm
Or haven’t they been to sleep
Maybe flown in from Europe
Unaware of the time
Ahead or behind
Wondering where the sun could be
Are we in Scandinavia here or there
No should be much colder
Interesting creatures of the night as it is
Who knew it would be so
Like mermaids so beautiful to a sailors’ eye
But hissing like a snake
Take down the ship to debris
A cobra before it strikes then certain death
Innocent though they look
Gaze into their eyes
May be the last you see