De Paul University
Writing from the Inside
Teacher: Zoe Keithley
Snake Dream
I’m running as fast as I can; I can’t run fast! He’s right behind me, holding the snake up as if it were some grand prize that I as a girl just could not appreciate. I feel the sweat running down my face; my heart is racing; I am breathing as if I am going 100 miles an hour. But why am I running? Why does that snake make my skin crawl? I see the grocery store, there are orange trees across the front; they glow in the dark. Maybe I can go in there before he gets any closer, – didn’t Mom ask me to get milk? Wasn’t that my mission?
I have a dress on with no back to it. Why would I have a backless dress on, on a day when a boy is chasing me with a snake? How can he put the snake down by the back when I don’t have a back with this outfit? I squirm inside at the thought of the snake, the snake can’t harm me; I know this even at my young age. I dread the thought of that snake touching my skin, feeling me. What is it that that snake represents? Why does it seem to go together with boys? Why does it make me want to run for my life?
I have high heels on. How can I run; no wonder I can’t run. This is not fair. He has several heads, each a boy that I know; all boys that would be the type to put a snake down by the back. Why do they do it? All the heads are saying different things. They are all talking to me at once. They all demand my attention. He is barefoot and we are walking on glass yet he has no pain. The grocery store stays within my sight but no matter how fast I run it is not any nearer to me; my legs seem to be going faster than my body. Why is there nothing else in sight?
I must get away from this boy, I will NOT have this snake down my back. I suddenly begin to rise, rise up out of his reach. God, this is great! He can’t reach me but he keeps coming just the same; he can’t believe that I have escaped him. Where does he think he is running to now? Was he really after me to begin with? Does he see another girl?
I feel the air separating as I coast through it. It seems to be helping me to rise. My feet are so light and without purpose now. I wiggle them to see if they are still attached or if I am just imagining them out of memory. No, I still have feet. I feel like I should be moving my arms to help navigate myself, but there is no need to do anything. The clouds are now tickling me. I can talk to these clouds, they can hear me. I don’t know how I know this because they don’t answer me back. The blueness is beautiful up here. I look down and have a sense of power, good nurturing power; power to see the needs of all mankind; my God, I can see the world in a more holistic way from up here. I wish we all could fly.
I fly down to the housetops. Who will believe that I am flying? I dodge the chimneys; I glide up and down; I feel so free. I now have blue jeans on, a black tee shirt and tennis shoes. I am more comfortable. Let me land and see if I can do this again.
I float down right in front of my house. “Hi Dad, I was just flying”. “Oh yeah, well fly down to the grocery store and bring some milk home for your mother”. “Dad, I was really flying”. Watch! I just take off into the air, with no effort, no jet propulsion, all I did was think – up. Dad can’t see me fly, he thinks that I just ran off to the store.
What if I could only fly, not walk anymore? I better be sure that I can repeat landing again. Here, let me land here right in front of the grocery store; I can practice landing and get my mom’s milk. I land softly, not knowing how I accomplished that, but seem to just float onto the ground. There are the boys, the boys that were all a part of the one boy’s head. They are coming toward me now. I feel them all looking at me, making the big decision – how will they tease and bug this girl. I hope I will still be able to fly.
They dance around me, all facing me, the decision has not yet been made. One of them attempts to grab me and up I go! They keep grabbing for me despite my flight from their reach. Thank God, I will always be able to escape the jeering, obnoxious boys. No boy will ever get me with a snake again.