Tuesday, March 08, 2005
The First Cut Is The Deepest
A cold chill awakened me. It felt like someone was rubbing a piece of ice against the side of my face. It took me a while before I'd realize that I was struggling to climb out of a dream I was having. The dream was very strange because I was somewhere in the country, dressed like a slave. I was wearing some kind of old white dress and I didn't have any shoes on. I dont care how bad my situation is; I would never wear clothes like that in real life.
I was standing with a group of other slaves. They were talking about some kind of wagon pulling up soon with something that the master been waiting for. I was just standing there trippin off of the fact that I was having this kind of dream. I'm thinking that maybe all those stories that my family in Louisiana used to tell me about sunk in a little deeper than I'd realized. Now years later, everything they said is coming up to the surface for reasons that I'm not clear about.
As the dream continued, that wagon finally showed up. It was coming fast and kicking up a lot of dirt and rocks. A lot of us had to cover our faces because some of the tiny pebbles were shooting in our direction.
"What's that there?" Somebody shouted behind me.
Before any of us could answer, a very bright reflection shined in our eyes. It was as if someone shined a spotlight into the crowd. It happened for a brief second and once the wagon passed us by, the light was gone. That's when I could see the reason for what happened. There was this really huge mirror sitting inside. Some white man; I guess he was the master kept yelling for everybody to stay back and dont come near the wagon when it stopped. I wasn't concerned about no damn wagon. I was trying to figure out what the hell I was doing in this dream. Then something crazy happened. One of the wagon's wheels went over this rock and the man driving it lost control. The horses were going one way and the wagon went another. Then before anybody could react to what was about to happen, that wagon flipped on its side and the mirror hit the ground; shattering into pieces. One of the women standing near me mumbled something. I looked at her and waited for her to say something else.
She said "serves him right..." and then she walked away.
I was gonna follow the lady but then everybody that was standing behind me followed those in front of me and ran toward the shattered pieces of mirror. I couldn't run against what felt like a wave of energy pulling me in the opposite direction of where I wanted to go so I joined the crowd. The slaves were picking up pieces of the mirror and acting like they'd seen a ghost. It was no big deal to me because I knew what it was.
"Y'all leave those be, ya hear!" The master shouted.
Hearing that white man screaming like he lossed his damn mind was incentive for me to grab my own piece of that mirror just to be rebellious. I picked up a piece that was large enough for me to look at my entire face reflecting inside. I hid it underneath my dress as soon as I seen that white man and a couple others running over and pushing some of the slaves that still held a piece in their hands. Before they could get to me, I was able to sneak behind all the commotion going on and walk out toward the large green field in the distance. I didn't know where I was going but it looked safer than sticking around where I was. Eventhough this was a dream, I could still feel what was going on as if I were actually living it instead of just watching. When I felt a little moisture at my fingertips, I looked at my hands and saw blood. I'd cut myself when picking up the piece of mirror. I'd felt the sting when it pricked my finger. That was really strange to me. Then again, this whole dream made no sense.
When I made my way to the wooded area just on the other side of the green field, I sat down because I was tired for some reason. It felt like I'd walked miles when I'd probably only walked a few feet. I dont know. It was strange because I could no longer see the commotion that I'd left behind but I knew I didn't walk that damn far. I looked at myself in the mirror. I actually wasn't sure I was looking at myself. My eyes looked different. They were sort of a light hazel color rather than dark brown. My skin tone was just a shade lighter and it looked flawless. I no longer had the scar on my cheekbone that had gotten there when I fell and hit my face on a sprinkler in our backyard when I was a kid. I didn't have the one or two blemishes from not taking care of my skin like I should. I looked really pretty but it was a trip because I didn't recognize my own eyes. It was as if I'd possessed someone else's vision and it was rolling around inside my head like two little hazel colored marbles, moving from side to side.
I was completely taken by what I'd seen, reflected by the mirror. So much so that it felt like I were hypnotizing myself. I say that because my eyes felt like they were being forced to close; I was so tired. I fell asleep right there in that tall green grass, leaned against an oak tree. And then, I dont know what happened or how long I'd been sleeping but I was awakened by the cold chill of something against my face. When I opened my eyes, it took a few seconds before my vision could focus. When it did, I saw a young black man smiling over me and then I felt a sharp pain. This man held the mirror up and I could see my bloodied reflection. My face had been cut very deeply, just below my cheekbone. I screamed as loud as I could and that's when everything went silent. My dream had turned pitch black and I couldn't see nor hear a thing. I was scared and yet, I was actually awake at this time. I didn't want to open my eyes for fear that someone would be standing over me, waiting to see what I'd do. I laid there as if I were playing dead. I waited until I could feel the sun beaming through my window as it normally did around seven in the morning. When I felt the sun, that's when I woke up. It was just a dream, I told myself. It was just a dream?
The First Cut Is The Deepest