Springcycle (Three Chapters from an Uncompleted Novel)

Abstract

Awakening for him is a gradual process, like a long crawl up a featureless sand beach. He does not awake suddenly, refreshedly; consciousness comes like dawn to a tired man struggling in dark oily waters. There is no line of demarcation; the unreal drowning quality of his sleep continues to wash about his first moments of awareness. No pure first light, no warming sun; stale air and a windowless indistinctness. Noise? Braap ffthun construction damned apartment building no more chance even of breeze from the Ala Wai. What time damn! rolling flat to reach for the clook, he presses firmly against the dampness where during the night he has thrust and achieved in response to shadows cold! Lay on it: body heat absorb cold will dry it out I wonder who it was. Dreams: the one I had the other night the night the colored guy Adrian from the Ala Moana bookstore he came and she still talking to him when I left and the dream so vivid still see it: it was like in a museum with linoleum floor square black tiles mahogany display cases high ceiling. I am tied to a wooden post in the center of the room fire at my feet hot sweating around me the Indians dance indistinct in the smoke teeth bared and all is silence still in silence they scream in silence the drums beat. Suddenly in si1ence in a rippling movement the bonds loosen in a rippling movement like a film run too slowly I free my hands you can a1most see the thoughts rippling to the muscles I break loose break through the circle running. Freedom! Pursued running an elevator inside the doors close between us safe. And the elevator begins to fall I turn there are no hands on the circular floor indicator falling it gathers speed it does not stop. Dreams.