syllabus

I like literature because I like stories and, perhaps more honestly, I'm greedy. My red desk is cluttered with texts and essays of criticism and other necessary materials to affirm that the idea of an anthology is beautiful. I like literature because it's meditative and a social act and often I am whispered things that are so terrible and wonderful that they have to be whispered often and repeatedly.

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In my dream, the nights were warmer and less angry. We were out on the soft lawn, not saying much, and watching the sky slowly grow dim. I turned over to look at you (you had said something ridiculous) and, from behind you, a hunched shadow was creeping towards you. A hunter, a predator, placing its steps in a straight line and poised to fly at any moment. "Don't turn around," I said and reached over to come between you and the shadow. The shadow pounced. It sank its teeth in my arm, gnashing and expelling curses. Blood flying up in the moonlight, I flung it to the ground and kicked it repeatedly in the neck, hearing a sick and horrible thump every time. It was the size of a child old enough to run and jump and shout insults at other children in the schoolyard but, this may be the oddest part of the dream, it looked like a rabbit. And rabbits are adorable and genial and nobody has it in their heart to hate (or fear) a rabbit... except for the most heartless people of all, gardeners. A vicious, bloodthirsty, larger-than-normal rabbit and my arm was torn to pieces, drenched in dark blood and my heel was pressed down at its throat. It struggled and kicked and continued to hiss profane words at me, as I forced myself to watch its life drain away. What did it say? Something terrifying and primal - I can't say specifically.
We found where they came from a few moments later. My arm was bandaged, I had a large and very heavy sword with me. Several others did as well. Still more had flashlights. We were to work in teams. Two flashlighters to a swordsman (or swordswoman) and find their eggs (demon rabbits coming from large, keg-sized eggs... go with it) hidden around the BJ Haan. We worked frantically. They were quickly hatching, springing from their birth immediately to feed a primal hunger for destruction. Slash! Slash! It was horrible and we performed our tasks openly weeping, the flashlighters standing aghast from a safe distance. They were attacked often, and we defended them as best we could.
There was no way to tell if we had gotten them all, but we stopped together (there were maybe two hundred of us in all) and we didn't know where to look. We all stood , finding reasons to shield our eyes as every part of the building, and ourselves, were covered in blood. We had no tears left to expel. The job was done but the building was one of irreversible silent horror. We couldn't look at each other, we couldn't speak and we silently left our swords and flashlights behind. I think we would have burned the building down and had never returned to Sioux Center if we had the choice but the dream ended there, with our exit, and I can't tell you why or what.

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Someone has my Magnolia dvd. Please return it soon, I'd like to view it.