Sunday 11 March 2012

The trials and tribulations of dissociation as a cure for patriarchal boredom

The other day Jane had a fight with a dream that refused to come. The dream was critically injured and when Jane took it to hospital she could not understand why the doctor and all the nurses could not see the severe injuries and gave her a sedative and phone Tony to come and take her home. But Tony said he was too busy washing the blood from the walls to be able to come and the doctor drove her home instead. Was there a one-plus-one somewhere?

And there was the other dream that had an accident and she had to phone the garage for the breakdown truch. The breakdown truck driver arrived within five minutes. Jane was delighted.
“You are very prompt,” she said brightly.

The truck driver wildly looked around. He croaked: “But ma’am, where … ?”

Jane pointed. The driver turned. There was nothing but the brittle, bitterly cold winter night. Hairs standing on end, the driver leapt back into his truck and with a scream of gears and shriek of tires backed away and was soon a glo-worm speck screeching down the road. Jane shook her head in disgust, puzzled. ( p 6-7)

d MARECHERA

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