Simple questions, repeated, but each time the question begs a deeper answer. WHO ARE YOU? Who Are You? who are you? Each time the same question probes deeper into time. In my prescribed country of origin, I got on a boat, but unlike most of soon to be Americans who also came here on a boat, I did not look up with wide-eyed wonder and dreams of hope and glory. That simple question echoed and echoed into the back of my mind. I fell asleep for years, a black Rip van Winkle, dreaming in black-n-white.
Things happen for a reason but if you take the incident as truth, you are stuck there, sleep walking. Means to an end, yes, my control, I don't think so. I was rocked in the arms of a Caucasian Jesus and Moshe kept sticking his brown hand into his bosom, turning it white and back to brown, I noticed. Actually, that simple question from the beginning found a space and wedged itself into a waking moment and started pinging like a sonar. Moshe, why are you brown and Jesus white? I went to ones from the school of dream interpretation. "Hey Joe, we got another one who claims to dream in color." They gave me a little packet with blue pills in it. "It's an anomaly, must be a psychotic aneurysm, watch TV, come back in a week. If it's worse we'll get you free Blockbuster and confine you to a video therapy room."
I threw the blue pills into a hole in the wall, they fell out. Seems I've been doing this for years, the space in the wall is filled up to the hole. I am baffled, every time I see a black face in history I loose them in Africa someplace. Even the mythical Noah's kids were..............well I'll be.......!?! But how........., when did......!?! I wondered into the street in a daze, got busted for looking like I was on drugs. They kept asking me why weren't I watching sports on the tube, or playing basketball, holding down a stool at the club or sweet talking with some ladies? Classic amnesia no, amnesia like a socially induced and perpetuated dream-state. All you have to do is school everybody what they need to know and the charade is maintained indefinitely.
They consoled me, comforted me, then jailed and sentenced me. I was numb from thinking. They brought me into a room, looked like a dentist office. "They care about my teeth?" "Just relax, you are going into relapse." They put me in the chair, strapped me down and began giving me blue pills, I passed out. I awoke in my bed, next to the large hole in the wall, all the blue pills were gone. I feel great, went out to catch some rays. "Hey, man what's up? Been down, ain't seen ya for a while?" I just smiled, stuck my brown hand into my bosom, pulled it out, it turned white, did it again, back to brown. Then I laughed. Next week there was an incident on the street. My friend whom I had spoke to was being carted away. He had that dazed look like doing drugs. A new echo now played in the back of my mind, "You are not the only one!" I asked the echo about the blue pills, he fired back "Placebo!"
