SDJ:2 - Native American Cheetah-Man; Aunt's place/cruise ship/outside of club (March 31st)

3/31 -

In a parking lot at the Del Amo Mall, a girl jogs past me while reciting a line of a poem or song that I recognize as something I wrote.  How does she know my writing?  I bet she plays music with Brad, and learned the line from him.  I start to follow her, then drop to my knees, raise up on all fours, and begin moving onward like a stalking cheetah. 

Still moving on all-fours, I enter a trail that leads into the Madrona Marsh.  From the other direction, an actual cheetah appears before me.  I'm not scared.  It walks up to me and I look it right in the eyes; waiting.  The cheetah begins speaking to me telepathically.  I realize that the creature must be communicating in English, since I can understand what it's saying.

The cheetah is now a young Native-American man.  He's dressed in buffalo-leather and wears a feather headband, the traditional clothing of his tribe.  He begins speaking about Spring and rebirth.  I ask him to repeat what he's said so that I can write it all down.  I find a pen and paper for this purpose and jot down some notes.

There is a small group gathered now, and he asks that, before leaving, we all sign our names on an informational sign beside where he's standing.  For this purpose, he procures a feather that, instead of ink, has been dipped in liquid amber.  My brother signs his name and then passes the feather to me.

I begin to sign my name in an extremely slow and deliberate fashion, and before I can even finish with my first initial, the Native American Cheetah-Man stops me, saying that I am not writing the letter in the proper way.  He explains that he is taking a class in cursive writing at the community college, so he knows.  This annoys me and I get a little defensive, telling him that cursive writing is subjective and allows for stylistic, individual differences.  I go back to signing with defiance, finishing with a flourish by slashing the line back across my name from right to left.

Earlier -

Aunt's place/cruise ship/outside of club: 

I hug Uncle Basil goodbye.  I'm starting to cry.  He starts slow dancing with me.  I play along to humor him, but my Dad and others are watching and it starts to feel awkward; so I hold him away from me with extended arms and give him an admiring look, breaking away.

I pass my sister on the way out.  She is a short, stocky Mexican girl, probably in her mid-20s.  She is angry that I am leaving, and I tell her "I'm sorry, but I have to go."

Walking down a hallway that is full of lawn furniture.  Everything is a very bright white - from this furniture to the plaster floors to the painted walls.  Feels like a cruise ship.  I pass a young kid sitting in a chair he's dragged to the front of a small television set.  He isn't paying much attention to what is on TV, though, and doesn't look like he's having any fun.  I think he's part of the family reunion, so I ask him if he needs anything.  He says he doesn't, and returns to watching TV by himself.

Proceeding down the hall, I see a woman lying on her belly on a long deck chair, getting a massage from someone who works here.  Just beyond her, a man walks towards a door on the left.  He's wearing a white leather jacket with big red letters on the back stating that he is a psychologist available for 30-minute sessions.

Outside now, a large crowd of club-goers begin to stream down a concrete stairway leading to a concrete walkway where I'm standing.  I sit down on a concrete slab in the corner where the walkway takes a right turn towards another concrete stairway leading down.  I'll sit here until the crowd thins out a bit.

I notice that I'm wearing the same green tracksuit that I was wearing earlier at some point.  My recollection of this is hazy, but I was sitting somewhere with four people who I understood to be dream-characters representing different aspects of my psyche.  All were male, but none looked like me.  They weren't even all necessarily human.

As the people file out, a small group steps away from the crowd so that they can speak to each other. They are standing close to where I'm sitting, slightly to the side of the 2nd stairway.  A young black guy in the small group tells a girl among them that she needs to give him her number, since he didn't get it from her last time.  Hearing this causes me to think, with some envy, that a bunch of these people passing by will be getting laid tonight.

A girl in my extended family leaves with a young blonde woman who I know has wronged her, but whom she's chosen to forgive and defend despite the fact that the rest of the family is quite angry at her.  This blonde girl is wearing a bronze-colored outfit; a thin, lacy cheese-cloth top and tight velour pants.  Whatever issues my family has with her don't prevent me from admiring her ass as she walks down the stairs with my extended-family member.

Back at the reunion, in a remote series of conjoined rooms deep inside my aunt's house, someone is bringing my Grandma in for a visit; pushing her along in her wheelchair.  I walk into a kitchenette  to find some snacks to put out.  I announce that our Grandma will be outside if anyone wants to visit, but this seems to fall on deaf ears.  Everyone is either sleeping or pretending they didn't hear me.  

I find some hummus and broccoli.  While putting these on a platter, I quickly eat a tiny cube of white cake out of a clear plastic cup.  The icing  is pink and blue, with little icing-flowers.  I think this was John Cusack's piece of cake;  He was walking out of the kitchenette as I was walking in.

It's a mess in here, but that's no surprise since this reunion's been going on for several days.  Leaving the kitchen, I head back into the guest room and announce - more insistently this time - "Okay!  Grandma is outside and we are going to visit with her now.  I can't believe I'm the guy doing this right now, but she's out there and we are going to visit with her.  So let's go!"  

I know that this could be the last time any of us see her.  A couple who were napping in a guest bed sit up groggily and get ready to comply with my order.

I'm out in the courtyard looking inside at the hallway through the large, rectangular windows.  I can hear the conversation of a psychiatrist talking with a guy who has allegedly tried to defraud one of my Uncles.  Initially, the man took a very arrogant tone with the doctor, convinced that he would get away with his scam.  However, the doctor is now convincing him that the gig is up and, furthermore, that suicide is his only remaining option.  Although I am startled and - in a visceral sense - appalled by the words of the psychiatrist, I also know that this situation doesn't involve me and it isn't my place to step in.  

Rain is beginning to come down in the courtyard.