Stressful Dreams About Family

by Dennis••0•Posted inJournal

This morning I woke up after a night of deep sleep, but troubled with stressful dreams. The memory of the dreams faded pretty rapidly, but I remember that they were about family members, and predictably there was conflict and violence. I have let go of many relationships with my family members a long time ago, and only kept it touch with those that were worth the effort. With the odd exception, I have no regrets about that, and recently I have even had the bandwidth to reach out to one or two. Nothing much, just to ask whether they’d be interested in a birthday dinner. It was good.

For the rest of them, it’s been over two decades; why are they still causing me stressful dreams? I don’t even accurately recall half of the horrific shit that happened, so why am I still impact by it?

Ben Ali Libi, de Goochelaar

by Dennis••0•Posted inJournal

Op een lijst van artiesten, in de oorlog vermoord,
staat een naam waarvan ik nog nooit had gehoord,
dus keek ik er met verwondering naar:
Ben Ali Libi. Goochelaar.

Met een lach en een smoes en een goocheldoos
en een alibi dat-ie zorgvuldig koos,
scharrelde hij de kost bij elkaar:
Ben Ali Libi, de goochelaar.

Toen vonden de vrienden van de Weduwe Rost
dat Nederland nodig moest worden verlost
van het wereldwijd joods-bolsjewistisch gevaar.
Ze bedoelden natuurlijk die goochelaar.

Wie zo dikwijls een duif of een bloem had verstopt,
kon zichzelf niet verstoppen, toen er hard werd geklopt.
Er stond al een overvalwagen klaar
voor Ben Ali Libi, de goochelaar.

In ‘t concentratiekamp heeft hij misschien
zijn aardigste trucs nog wel eens laten zien
met een lach en een smoes, een misleidend gebaar,
Ben Ali Libi, de goochelaar.

En altijd als ik een schreeuwer zie
met een alternatief voor de democratie,
denk ik: jouw paradijs, hoeveel ruimte is daar
voor Ben Ali Libi, de goochelaar.

Voor Ben Ali Libi, de kleine schlemiel,
hij ruste in vrede, God hebbe zijn ziel.

– Willem Wilmink

A Third Hand

by Dennis••0•Posted inJournal

It’s remarkable how often I find myself in a situation where I need both hands to manipulate something, and I ideally would have a third hand to perform an action. When doing chores around the house, when training the dog, when performing small repairs, when untangling a necklace. I used to fantasise about what kind of cool cybernetic augmentation I would get in the future; elbow lasers, cybernetic eyes, legs with rocket boosters… Now I just want a third arm with a hand on it.

Herfstbak

by Dennis••0•Posted inJournal

My sister has taken on the vibe of a wood witch the last couple of years. She would do well living in a secluded cottage just outside of town, and the villagers stay away from her until one of the village maidens needs to get rid of an unwanted pregnancy, or the village dairy cow is suffering from a malady. Then suddenly they come asking for help. She tends to her garden, and minds her own business.

Recently, she has started decorating her house in preparation for the fall. Candles, pumpkins, wreaths, all in appropriate autumnal colours. One of the things she’s created is a display of leaves, pumpkins, and pinecones, nicely lit up in a display case. My sister is very good at that, decorating things to fit a vibe, and she knocked it out of the park again. She proudly told us that it was just like the autumn boxes that we would create in elementary school.

The autumn box was an assignment we would get in elementary school, where we would be asked to go out and collect beautiful leaves, pinecones, and other assorted plant material that we would then display inside a box-like table, which we would display prominently in class for the remainder of the autumn months. It was all rather pagan, when I reflect on it.

I was very happy when my sister mentioned the autumn box, because I honestly think about that project an average of about once a month, and I thought I was the only one that remembered it so fondly. It’s basically my pumpkin spice.