Oliver Deacon's Beatific Dream

Bovine skins, rattlesnake dens, dismembered raccoon legs and rotting raven eggs—

I had dream last night that I awoke and when I got up I saw my breath, I was staggering like a drunkard and everything was spinning, but unlike a drunkard my stomach was okay and I felt clear. . .

I took a deep breath for at least half a minute and walked down the stairs—the dogs were all barking and howling as I opened the door.

When I walked out—I saw a fire atop of Rattlesnake Hill, as I walked towards it, Saint Mook, Dr. Sigmund Rose and the Fush all ran there—Lighting flashed all around us and then four ghosts appeared out of nothing and nowhere.

Millions of snakes were dancing in circles and figure eights, intermingled and wrapped around each other, the dogs didn’t care they acted like themselves, but I was shaking in fear. A kaleidoscope of serpents like a room of mirrors engulfed my being, my body and my soul—I sunk into an abyss, I lost myself and my mind.

Then I approached the fire, it roared like a silent hummingbird—and crackled like a shattering world. The ghosts all raised their glasses and bottles and welcomed me and Lit Generation—All four ghosts where standing around the fire then one stepped fourth and with a snaky smirk he introduced himself with a raised glass, “ Hi, I’m Carlo, welcome to our little orgy, don’t fuck the fat one he’s narrow minded. But actually his name is Sal, over there in the headdress is our friend Mr. Hubbs and the pretty one is our beloved Dean Cody, which if you don’t mind, I would like to reserve for my own sexual gratification.” Then Carlo dropped his pants and everyone looked at him and his balls and shook there heads in disapproval. “Look it was funny last generation, but you’ve gotta be a little more over the top these days man. Shove a bottle up your ass or something? These neo-hipsters are hard to satisfy—that’s why I started sucking dick...” said, Dean Cody with a lover’s grace as Carlo play wrestled him to the ground and gave him a French kiss. “Can’t you save it for Satan you filthy faggots!” yelled, Sal who was kissing his own bottle of ruby port wine and he caught himself, “Don’t be so nasty—don’t be so drunk.” He said to himself. Then he said to me, “I know what you want; you want “the bottom”.” Meanwhile Mr. Hubbs was wearing Colorado tribal body-paint, his skin was dyed red and there where black stripes across his whole body. He was standing in the fire and chanting in a low murmur I could not comprehend, but he looked very weird, sort of like an alien life form or an insect, thin and faint. The other ghosts all looked like people except for their angel features and attributes. Dean Cody especially looked very much like an angel. They all also looked very much like serpents and at times it seemed like they to where all wrapped around each other like snakes. They seemed to talk to each other without talking and every once in a while the looked over at me and the strobe of snake-tongue would catch the corner of my eye.

I suddenly had a large Jamaican hand rolled blunt in my hand. In this magical world I didn’t hesitate and I lit it on the campfire. I took a puff and I passed it to Dean Cody. He was sitting on a log and twirling his finger in his mixed drink which looked like maybe bourbon and coke with old fashioned ice cubes. “Hey, thanks brother.” He took the blunt and puffed on it like a champ. “Hey man, I brought your favorite. Reach inside the cooler there.” I opened the ice chest and there was 12 icy cold Modelo’s with their necks wrapped in gold. I was amazed. How did this ghost know me so well? “Pass me one of those to” said Sal then he added, “Actually you better make that two, I’m thritsty.” I tossed a beer to Sal, one after another and asked the other ghosts if they wanted one. “No thanks, I’m going to shoot-up some junk here as soon as wonderboy gets out of the fire.” Said Carlo and Mr. Hubbs just stood silent in the fire not paying any attention to us at all just sort of smiling with his eyes shut like the was taking a shower or getting a massage. Now Carlo was on one knee petting Dr. Edmund Rose and the Fush was getting jealous and stretching out in front of him, about to rub her butt on his face, Saint Mook was laying with his eyes closed and enjoying the heat from the fire. We all continued to pass the blunt around the fire and even Mr. Hubbs stopped his meditation to take a hit. “You to care to shoot some junk, Oliver? Now that we’re dead we have an infinite supply.” “No, thanks.” I declined and then Mr. Hubbs stepped out of the fire, all the attention turned to him. “Don’t just be passing out junk to innocent children, Carlo. Infinite supply or not a junkie will run out and I am not wanting to run out.” “Oliver, is hardly and innocent child. He is the voice of the Lit Generation.” cried Sal. In astonishment we all looked at each other. “He is?” asked Dean. “He is.” said Hubbs. “We then...I certainly don’t want to run out!” they all looked at each other and then they all stormed me and picked me up and threw me in the fire. They covered me with brimstone and my body was engulfed in the flames and completely burned away. As I was evaporating I could see them still passing the blunt around and laughing while they drank cold beers and port wine. .

In a flash I reawaked, but I could see nothing, but golden heaven. “Is this heaven?” I asked, then heard Sal say, “This is Paradise”. “This is the afterlife for cultural icons.” “Is Dean and Mr. Hubbs here to? “Right here.” I heard them both say. “So why can’t you see anything?” I asked. “We can see just fine, Oliver. You can’t see?” Sal responded. “I can see light.” “What color of light?” he asked. “Just light, like the sun’s light” I answered. “You mean goldenness?” “I guess I do.” “Your lucky then.” exclaimed Sal. “Hold on here, just because he sees golden light doesn’t make him the fucking Buddha, Jesus fucking Christ, Sal. I told you to quit reading that Goddamned Diamond Sutra! Maybe, it’s because like I said before he is an innocent fucking child.” “I know this kid Hubbs, don’t be such a grump.” “Well, I haven’t had my junk yet. What’s and old man do without his fix?” Mr. Hubbs puts on a grouchy face. “Well, for the sake of Christ crucified, we have an infinite Goddamn supply so let’s fix it up.” Carlo intervened.

I felt a thump on the back of my head and suddenly I could see again and we all were flying like angels. Dean flew next to me and with a twinkle like a star in his eye he said, “Welcome to my heaven”. We flew towards a town full of concrete buildings and generic landscapes and crowds of people traveling in hurried delusions. “What is this?” I asked. “This is Lobotomyville. Anyone in my heaven who wants to check out without actually having the courage to commit suicide can be come a citizen of Lobotomyville...some people just can’t deal with life yet man! Or death and they can’t be thrown in the fire just yet! They can’t even handle purgatory bro, much less hell or heaven. Lobotomyville in my heaven is totally acceptable man. They get television, but no books and their required to get married and have a family to...they also have to go to church and drive Buicks when they turn forty.” Then he looked at me and smiled. He laughed a little and then said, “but you came to see the Mexican whore houses and ride in stolen cars. Right?” and continued laughing then he disappeared in the golden light.

I feel a bolt of lighting go through my mind and suddenly me and Dean are now sitting in a bar with Sal. Sal leans over and whispers, “he didn’t try to do any gay stuff did he? Hehehe... Stick his finger up your ass or anything? He always want to fornicate.” “Ah’ Sal you dirty old motherfucker, chill out.” said, Dean Cody, “take a puff of tea man.”. Then Sal talked to himself again, “Your too drunk, your mean. Puff the tea, puff the tea.” “Is this your heaven Sal? You old drunk fat fuck?” asked Dean Cody as I waited for a reply. Sal looked at both of us and said, “I’ll tell you what since I’m in such fine mood tonight I’ll buy you both a drink and a K.C. Strip...and I ain’t bullshitting it’s not just because I got an infinite supply because, I will run out...I hope that makes sense. Drinks are on me. Oliver, I’m getting you laid tonight my boy and I don’t mean by one of these fag writers, but by a real genuine African American queen.” Then he looked at me with a smiled and added, “I’m talking about a beauty with a booty, so big you can put a beer and can of pork and beans on each check.” He smiled real big then and asked, “You know what I’m saying boy?” Before I had a chance to answer he when on, “I’ve got a thing for new experiences, but mainly I just am a helpless drunk.” Then I was struck with a venomous dark pause. “Hey bartender we need beer and steak, on my tab, baby-cakes.” Sal was getting fired up now as the darkness encompassed me.

“Sorry Oliver, sorry for the darkness, this is Carlo; blackness is my heaven. I’m a freak of nature.” Then I slowly saw Carlo sitting on a soapbox writing in a little book. “What are you writing?” I asked. “I’m writing a black poem about darkness.” “Why?” I asked, “Because I’m horny and I want to make love to young Greek boy (or) honestly, several at a time, is the main reason, but I also want to save the earth from my own apocalyptic visions.” Then he kept writing and in the corner I saw Mr. Hubbs. He also had a notepad, was sitting in a box and said, “Hey, wanna try out my orgone accumulator?” Then he morphed into an insect flew into the ether then reappeared. “What have your knowledge of brimstone my boy?” asked, Mr. Hubbs in a dark low and faint draw. “What do you know of Greeks, Oliver?” asked Carlo. Then Sal, was screaming, “Don’t listen to these faggots; they just want to fuck you, but don’t listen to me because I’m drunk.” Dean Cody was busy seducing a woman and writing poetry...

Without a sound we were back at Rattlesnake Hill. I was surrounded by Dr. Edmund Rose, the Fush and Saint Mook. All four ghosts stood as they were drinking and smoking tea. The fire was burning bright and blue and smelled like acid rain. The ghosts had a pile of yellow crystals and they threw them on the fire and they burned like ice.

At once an invisible rider came towards us and the dogs surrounded him.

Unconcerned the ghosts ignored it, but I stepped forward and addressed the passerby. “Who are you?” I asked. “I’m Hickory Leaf of the Wah’petons, just passing by—You seen any snakes; I’m hunting for Rattler’s?” He went from invisible to being the form of a Native warrior. I was caught red handed in front of the primal order. What was I to say? I saw he was full of snakes to—So I threw up my hands. And right then when it went down, I knew what to do. I joined the other ghosts and threw that old man in the fire, watched him burn and covered him with brimstone. Then we smoked and we drank and we laughed. The old man must have seen heaven?

“Well, good for you Oliver. Look what you’ve done. Now your a murderer just like us.” said Sal. “A brainwasher—purifier of the spirit my boy.” added, Mr. Hubbs with a sigh of approval. “What have I done?” I asked. I looked at Sal and I looked at the others. “I don’t know yet Oliver, show him your heaven.” said Carlo. “There is always Lobotomyville.” said Dean Cody. Then all the ghosts disappeared and I woke up and could see my breath. I was naked, alone, not even my dogs where home and was grateful I wasn’t wrapped around someone like a snake, I knew I was intermingled with everything anyway—it was better to be free than be alive, but I was alive anyway and free.

Sardine tins, porky pine pins, gar fish chins and backwoods gin—