Name: "Geoffrey"
Age: 29
Have you met any others? Like myself?
Yes.
Good. I mean, I knew I wasn't alone, but it's nice to have that confirmed. I mean, sometimes I think I'm going crazy and then...then I think that perhaps I've already gone crazy and everything I've experienced has just been one hallucination after another and I'm really in a rubber room, you know?
Anyway, I have a name for us.
A name?
Yeah. It's just a name I call people who have the dream. "The Woebegone." I think it's poetic, right?
Who did you lose?
My mom. Her name was Patricia, but my dad called her Patty.
I think that's rare. Usually, the dream comes to those who lose children.
Yeah, I know. And I also know that she didn't really go missing, not like the others. She died.
She died?
Yeah. She had cancer. She went in for treatment one day and then...she didn't come out.
But you're still looking for her?
Yes. I had the dream. That means...something, doesn't it?
I don't know.
It has to mean something. It has to mean that she's alive somewhere, that she didn't die or that she came back after...
Do you believe in Heaven?
...I don't know.
I don't know either. But my mom did. And I need to know if she came back. Maybe that's why she wants me to find her. Maybe that's what all the dreams are about.
And have you encountered the...
Those people who look all weird and blurry? Yeah. I think they are some sort of cult or something. They tried to give me something, a book.
A book?
Yeah. It was called "The Ninth Hour." Anyway, they tried to hand it to me, but I ran away from them. If you ever see them, I recommend you do the same.
Saturday, February 9, 2013
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Los Angeles Metro Station in Maravilla, CA
Name: "Elizabeth"
Age: 37
My boy. My baby boy. My beautiful baby boy. They took him. They took him away. They took him away from me. My beautiful baby boy.
What was his name?
Stephen. They took my Stephen away from me.
Who did?
The ones, the ones without names. The nameless ones.
What did they look like?
I don't know. They looked all different. Their faces would shift. I couldn't tell of they were men or women, grown ups or children. Their hairs changed length and their skin changed color and their eyes became as big as saucers and as small as pinpricks. Without names, they just...looked as if they had no definition. They were blurry around the edges. You know what I mean?
I don't, I'm sorry.
That's okay, I know I'm not explaining it well. Because I can't. Because seeing them...it broke something. In my head. I know I'm not right. I know it.
When did they take your son?
Three years ago. I came home and he was gone.
And how did you know they took him?
Because I know. When I saw them, I knew. I can't explain it. Like the blurriness. Like how I know they don't have names.
And did you have the dream?
I did. He called to me. He called to me to find him. But I know it wasn't him. There was the blurriness. The...edges of him were wrong.
But you are looking anyway?
Of course. I have to. They took my boy. My beautiful baby boy. They took him. My boy.
Age: 37
My boy. My baby boy. My beautiful baby boy. They took him. They took him away. They took him away from me. My beautiful baby boy.
What was his name?
Stephen. They took my Stephen away from me.
Who did?
The ones, the ones without names. The nameless ones.
What did they look like?
I don't know. They looked all different. Their faces would shift. I couldn't tell of they were men or women, grown ups or children. Their hairs changed length and their skin changed color and their eyes became as big as saucers and as small as pinpricks. Without names, they just...looked as if they had no definition. They were blurry around the edges. You know what I mean?
I don't, I'm sorry.
That's okay, I know I'm not explaining it well. Because I can't. Because seeing them...it broke something. In my head. I know I'm not right. I know it.
When did they take your son?
Three years ago. I came home and he was gone.
And how did you know they took him?
Because I know. When I saw them, I knew. I can't explain it. Like the blurriness. Like how I know they don't have names.
And did you have the dream?
I did. He called to me. He called to me to find him. But I know it wasn't him. There was the blurriness. The...edges of him were wrong.
But you are looking anyway?
Of course. I have to. They took my boy. My beautiful baby boy. They took him. My boy.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Bob Hope Airport, Terminal B
Name: "Katherine"
Age: 45
Have you ever heard that one song, that song by I think it's Ella Fitzgerald? It's called "Gloomy Sunday." It's the most depressing song you've ever heard. She adapted it from a Hungarian song that actually caused people to commit suicide. Seriously, they called it the Hungarian suicide song. Have you ever heard it? No?
Because that's what happens whenever I hear her name. I want to kill myself. Because I know she's out there, but I'm never going to find her. She's out there and she's alive and I know this will all of my heart and I will keep on looking for her because she is out there, but the same thing that tells me she's alive, also tells me I'm not going to find her. So every time I hear her name, I want to just...
Her name was Rachel. She wasn't perfect. I know a lot of moms say that their children are angels and such, but no, Rachel wasn't an angel. She had her tantrums. We had our arguments. Plenty of arguments, actually. But we always moved past them.
I just want to see her again. Outside of my dreams, that is.
Only the once. I've only had the dream once. I've heard of others who keep having the dream, they keep resisting, but not me. I just had it once and then I left. Sold my house, my car, everything. I would do anything just to see her again.
Sorry, that's my flight. I've got to go. It was nice talking to you.
Age: 45
Have you ever heard that one song, that song by I think it's Ella Fitzgerald? It's called "Gloomy Sunday." It's the most depressing song you've ever heard. She adapted it from a Hungarian song that actually caused people to commit suicide. Seriously, they called it the Hungarian suicide song. Have you ever heard it? No?
Because that's what happens whenever I hear her name. I want to kill myself. Because I know she's out there, but I'm never going to find her. She's out there and she's alive and I know this will all of my heart and I will keep on looking for her because she is out there, but the same thing that tells me she's alive, also tells me I'm not going to find her. So every time I hear her name, I want to just...
Her name was Rachel. She wasn't perfect. I know a lot of moms say that their children are angels and such, but no, Rachel wasn't an angel. She had her tantrums. We had our arguments. Plenty of arguments, actually. But we always moved past them.
I just want to see her again. Outside of my dreams, that is.
Only the once. I've only had the dream once. I've heard of others who keep having the dream, they keep resisting, but not me. I just had it once and then I left. Sold my house, my car, everything. I would do anything just to see her again.
Sorry, that's my flight. I've got to go. It was nice talking to you.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Pour the unhappiness out
From your too bitter heart,
Which grieving will not sweeten.
Poison grows in this dark.
It is in the water of tears
Its black blooms rise.
The magnificent cause of being,
The imagination, the one reality
In this imagined world
Leaves you
With him for whom no phantasy moves,
And you are pierced by a death.
From your too bitter heart,
Which grieving will not sweeten.
Poison grows in this dark.
It is in the water of tears
Its black blooms rise.
The magnificent cause of being,
The imagination, the one reality
In this imagined world
Leaves you
With him for whom no phantasy moves,
And you are pierced by a death.
-- Another Weeping Woman, Wallace Stevens
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