Urine-spouting Hermes wannabe.

February 21, 2011

I had a strange dream last night:

The cool white colors dominate the courtyard I am having lunch in with my friend, Brandon.  The cobblestone floor is slightly worn, like the walls, with bits of moss growing on the cracks.  The sky is clear overhead and piercing blue.  A chill goes up my spine, as it is early spring and the shade is far cooler than I would like.  I look out at the chairs in the sunlight and tell Brandon we are moving to that area but before we rise, a skinny, dark skinned boy with white patterns on his skin appears, standing on the tips of his toes, small wings beating furiously at his ankles.  He has no hair and no muscle definition; eyes colored red and glowing bright as fire.

Smoke appears over the walls off in the distance and gunfire cuts through the relative quiet in the courtyard.  This South American town is in utter upheaval and revolution.  The boy moves his arms and hands in an erratic fashion, causing his cheeks to puff out.  He stands on one foot and leans forward, his arms spread out and spits a watered down yellow fluid at me as if he were a fountain.  It hits me directly in the chest and from the smell of it, I guess it is urine.  Furious, I rise from my chair and run at the lad and he snaps into a fighting position and jumps at me, feet first.  Performing some kind of  Brazilian martial arts in slow motion, he knocks me off my feet and I crash into the stone wall behind me, my neck emitting a loud “crack” upon impact.  I become nervous, not sure how to beat him since I do not know martial arts.  Not deterred enough, I run at him a second time and land a solid punch on his left eye but he spins around and throws me back into that same wall.  He takes up the fountain pose and spews more fluid from his mouth and it hits me in the face this time, burning my eyes, making it hard to go after him.  I scream at him furiously, causing the stream coming from his mouth to become thicker; less like urine, and more like a citrus smelling fluid.

Everything stops for a brief moment–no sounds can be heard, nothing moves, everything is frozen in time.  When “time” resumes, he heaves as if about to throw up and his ankle wings beat at full speed, creating a high pitched humming sound, lifting him off a few inches from the ground.  An old man hobbles into the courtyard, unnoticed by this quasi-Hermes creature, and whispers to me to be still and raise my arms up and out if I want to save myself and banish the evil spirits in the boy attacking me.  I follow his instructions and the winged boy drops back to his feet.  He runs at me again but fails in his attempted attack.  He tries repeatedly to assault me but I keep my arms out and refrain from saying anything, staying calm as possible.  After what feels like almost an hour, the boy refrains from attacking me and instead paces back & forth impatiently.  A deep “crack” echoes up from the ground in the distance and he snaps his head to attention.  He smiles, holding his hand out to me, palm facing the sky and snaps his fingers, causing a flame the size of a grapefruit to appear in his palm.  Everything goes black.

I woke up.