25 May 2009

Crypt

In the early spring of 1963, a B-47 pilot lost his life in an ATO-related fire. My memory is vague on this, but I think the wheels did actually lift from the tarmac...that the jet was in the air, and then crashed....

His name was James Meeks. He was a Major in the Air Force. His crewmen were all able to escape, but he was trapped by his own seatbelt, due to negligence by its manufacturer...

That same spring it seemed almost everyone's basement was flooding. The water table was rising, and the earth under our homes was saturated. I mention this, because the night Major Meeks died, I had a dream about him. I dreamed he did not burn to death, after all.


I dreamed
he survived the fire,
only to be drowned
in a small lake,
a flooded quarry
under the sidewalk.
The lid to his crypt
lay in front of our house.

Bits of his flightsuit
were still on fire
floating in the waves
of blood and grease,
his charred hands
still gripping the belt
that would pull him
into the waiting pool.

8 comments:

Kevin McGinty said...

Wow, Cat. To say I was caught off guard by this one would be an understatement.

It reminded me of the dreams I had for what seemed like forever when my little sister died.

It was also in 1963. Kim was 2-years-old. I wasn't quite 5 yet.

Do you remember the ghost town (Hitschmann, Ks.) story I told awhile back. Well, this is where it all happened.

After she died, I started having this dream about some crazy looking, old guy running across a field with my little sister slung across his shoulder.

I did my best to chase after him, she'd always be crying and holding out her arms to me. But I was never quite able to grab ahold of her.

Then he'd stop just outside this old grain silo we had behind the house. He'd stop, turn around, and start laughing at me.

I'd always just kind of freeze up. Unable to move, I tried screaming for help but couldn't make a sound and no help ever came.

Finally, he'd stop laughing and just stood there staring at my. Then he turned around and just kind of blended in with the silo. And once again, I was too late.

I had this exact same dream over and over for what seemed like forever.

And to say I was scared to go to sleep at night would also be an understatement.

Take care, my liberal friend...

Mick said...

I know that I've had my fair share of nightmares over the years ... but, like most dreams, do you think I can remember any of them? :O

fredwrite said...

I'm going to start watching for your poetry in the literary mags I read. Don't tell me you're not submitting these.

studio lolo said...

Bone-chilling.

You're awesome.

And Kevin, Jeez how awful.

Catnapping said...

Oh god, Kevin. I am so sorry. So much pain at once for such a wee one to suffer. for anyone to suffer. The loss of your baby sister and that terrifying nightmare making you relive it over and over. Your description. I can see it. I can see him.

Mick, I don't remember so many dreams anymore...not the way I used to. They used to be so colourful and sooo vivid.

Fred...okay. I won't tell you. Thank you for saying that, though.

Studio, thank you.

Kevin McGinty said...

Ah, don't feel bad for me, guys. Yeah, it was bad. But life gets like that sometimes.

It's the same for all of us...

Renee said...

Your writing is always ..... I don't even know what to describe it, except that I am always touched.

You must have been very little and that must have been very hard.

Love Renee xoxoxo

Montag said...

"the lid to his crypt/ lay in front of our house"

It is so redolent of the past of all of us.

It is the war - Vietnam, Iraq...

And it leaves you thinking: if only I had dried up the water! but how could I have done so?