Dream Requiem| Draft 4

DREAM REQUIEM
After thirty nights of the same nightmare I can still recall every vivid detail of the dream. I am standing in a white clay desert, the ground looks like broken pottery. Far off in the distance, against the blur of reflected heat, I can see the dust plume created by galloping horses. I try to turn and run away but I am unable to move at all, as if I am stuck to the ground. When the riders draw nearer, I instantly recognize them as the four horsemen of the apocalypse. The white, black, and fiery red horses have riders that aren’t clearly visible. In contrast the pale horse whose rider is death appears to me in perfect clarity. At which point, our eyes lock in each other’s gaze, he begins to speak and I wake up, bathed in sweat.I was never one to believe that dreams have meanings; however this was causing me to wonder. I had never been the religious type, so the metaphor of the horsemen baffled me. The part that most concerned me was death speaking to me. What was he about to say? Why did I always awaken before I could hear his words?I tied the white laces of my Doc Martens and headed out the door, still exhausted from the tumultuous visions of my sleep. I met up with a bunch of the guys from the Woodpile, title given to any group of “haters”, at Starbuck’s to plan out a day of nefarious deeds. Some of these guys I had met in the joint, anyways we all knew each other from the time spent as wards of the state. Crime was a common denominator. Assault the most common. The other people lived at the south end of town, consequently the greatest portion of the illicit attacks we engaged in occurred at the south end of town. We would roll the young ones for beer money, catch a good buzz and then set out to conquer the gangs closer to our own age. Occasionally somebody would bring a knife or maybe a chain, but only used them if the brawl became one-sided.Today was to be the day of Revelation. We happened upon a group of about dozen guys, a number only slightly larger than our own. The thing about fighting on this end of town, rarely did the skirmish require any provocation. This time proved no different. Once out of the car we straight away became engaged. The fight had been going only moments when I heard the gunfire, a sound distinctly identifiable even if you never have heard it before. Instantly I felt a searing burn in my side and fell to the ground. The combatants disbursed leaving me there alone except for the sound of sirens.I felt a chill and opened my eyes, the pale horse’s rider looks down upon me and again our gaze met. He starts to speak and I hear these words, “I have come to take your life.”

AT THE TOP OF THE SLIDE | NON-FICTION

AT THE TOP OF THE SLIDE
I remember a week or so earlier, than that fateful march day, when my girlfriend asked me if I wanted to go with her out to Denver and watch the Rockies play baseball. It was their inaugural season. I answered with, “sure, if I am not at work” which really meant “no I‘ll be working.” I worked on a mineral exploration drilling rig and little did I know then that I would see the Colorado Rockies play baseball in April that year, but I wasn’t going to work for awhile either.
March 23rd, 1993 I cut off the ends of all four of the fingers on my left hand, as the result of an industrial accident. In an environment where the use of illicit drugs was no less than a daily practice, the twenty-third was an exception because I was not high.
A guard missing from over a 9 inch guide sprocket that directed 180mm chain is the most apparent reason, even though, and I hate to say this, operator error was also factor. I know I had the right to say at anytime, “We have to stop and put that guard over the sprocket,” but I didn’t. Instead I stuck my hand down in between that chain and sprocket. An instant was all it took and my life would change forever. There were immediate changes, some differences developed over a couple of years, and there are some things that are part of what’s in the picture right now.
What I remember the most is I had to have someone help me use the bathroom. I was living with my mom, but quickly moved in with my girlfriend. My personal life caused my mother a lot of heartache; she had never even drunk alcohol let alone has had any interaction with drugs and especially not on that scale. I couldn’t work but I still got paid, so I got high and sold dope. I don’t want to glamorize the situation but things seemed to working out pretty good for me. I had it going on, or so I thought. Every relationship of consequence was falling completely apart and my drug use was out of control. I was hooked bad, I loved the money and the power, but more than anything I love to get high.
I must have done something right for the drilling outfit that I worked for because they re hired me fifteen times, meaning that somehow my employment had been terminated fourteen times. Out of all of those times that I lost my job, they probably only fired me four times for failing a drug test. One summer in Yuma, around 97 or 98 the biologist at the drilling site demanded that I go into the clinic and get checked out for heat exhaustion, my boss decided that they should do a drug screen, I tested positive for THC, opiates, amphetamines, cocaine, and benzodiazepine. All that was said was the boss telling me that I better get straight.
Perhaps I had finally reached the proverbial “rock bottom,” in June of 2005 after spending eight months incarcerated, for possession of a controlled substance; I was released from the Millard County jail. I got high a few times but somehow it just didn’t feel the same. I began to attend a support group, which I am ashamed to say, I went to high. With some help from my parents, church leaders, and the people from the support group I went to treatment again, and just before I left I got high
While at the treatment facility, I got straight. Whatever those ladies said worked for me while I was there. I stayed there for a total of 7 months completing my first semester of school at Snow College while living at the treatment center. I won’t claim perfect adherence to sobriety but on my fifth visit to a drug rehab I found a way to refocus my energies and channel them into positive outlets. One thing I know changed me was seeing people come into that place fresh off the streets and the condition that they were in, and knowing that someone just like the person I was had helped them get there.

Becoming| Poetry

Becoming

Fresh out of
Las Vegas Metro
After 48
Sleep deprived and feeling
The Jones
Emptiness fills my being

Longing and
The first road of opportunity
In the front seat of
A Ford Festiva and a needles pierce
Pulse quickens
Shortness of breath
The plunger pushed home
The present delivered
Expel

A chemical vapor
Jaw clinch
Teeth grind
Ears Ring
Eyes Roll-back
Release in side of me
I am whole
Again.

Bienvenidos| Los sientos para mi absentivo.

Finally I feel that I have something worth posting. I have strugglesd with writing papers that have to have a structured context, and I still find myself perplexed by the intricacies of the concept. This creative writing outlet and the postive experience I receive from it has saved me. I like what Dr. Petersen said,twice today that I heard, everything is slightly "autobiographical." This is it -- "Becoming."

Crazy Questions| Fireworks

Momentary flashback, its the begining of the end. My girl just told me she's late. man the next few things that are running through my head are these crazy questions and the first one up is the standard "Is it mine?" closely followed by, "Are you sure your pregnant?" Now that I have scared myself. What am I going to do with a kid, im still a kid myself? Am I going to have to quit school and get a job? Is this the end or have I just found a new begining?

Droppings| Craig Vernon

Droppings
Dramatic Scene
Craig Vernon

Droppings
NORTH EAST WYOMING PRARIE ON LOCATION OF WELL BORE. SCENE OPENS AT THE OPERATIONAL END OF A GARDENER DENVER 2000 CONVENTIONAL DRILLING RIG WITH A STANDARD FOUR MAN CREW.NICK, THE DRILLER WITH KEVIN, SAM, AND JOE, THE ROUGHNECKS.
At the drill rig control panel in a state of shock.
Nick
Where the hell did that wrench just go?
Replying from the drill rig floor in front of the table.
Joe
I think it just went down the hole
Nick
How far down did it go? Can you see it?
Joe
What are we supposed to do now?
Nick
I guess we better call Larry. Let’s try a mirror or a flashlight and look down the hole, maybe we can see it. I know Larry will ask if we did.
#
INTRODUTION OF LARRY, THE TOOL PUSHER, WHO IS IN THE COMPANY OFFICE TALKING TO NICK VIA TELEPHONE, FROM THE DRILL RIG LOCATION.
Sitting in crew truck talking on cellular telephone.
Nick
It looked to me like he just let go of the wrench.
In an office behind a desk talking on the telephone.
Larry
What in the hell did he do that for?
Nick
He don’t like us. I mean he doesn’t like us at all. In fact I’m sure he hates us, that’s why he dropped the wrench in the hole. You gotta get me someone else, I cant work with Joe any longer.
Larry
What was Joe doing working on the floor? How come he wasn’t up in the derrick?
Nick
He was in the derrick until I seen him spitting chew on Kevin. I told Sam to go up there and made Joe come down and work on the floor. I told Kevin to have a break and go and cool off a little. Then I thought that Sam would go up there and spit on Joe, to get even. Joe must have thought of that too because he said he was quitting right then if someone spit on him. I told Sam not to do it, but I know he wanted to real bad.
Larry
How come Joe had the pipe wrench on the table?
Nick
He picked up the 48 of the floor and was going to use it to back up the pipe. I don’t know why he didn’t use the 36 we always use. It was sitting right there on the table and it was tied off. I bump up that drill pipe every time we make a connection, the same way I always do it. The same way you taught me to do it. I was about to turn the table when Joe just let go of the wrench. He didn’t try to catch he just watched it fall.
Larry
Why the fuck would Joe go and do something like drop the pipe wrench in the damn hole. Did you try and look down the hole with a mirror?
Nick
Yeah.
Larry
Did you use a flashlight or a mirror?
Nick
I used both, the mirror was brighter but I still couldn’t see the wrench. Larry when you bring me the fishing tools bring me a new helper too.
Larry
Joe dropped the wrench so he stays until we get it out.
#
OUTSIDE THE CREW TRUCK IMEDIATELY FOLLOWING TELEPHONE CALL.
Kevin
I can’t believe that Larry wouldn’t let you run Joe off.

Nick
These are Larry’s exact words, "Joe dropped it so he stays until we get it out."
Sam
If the wrench ever comes out. There aint no way well ever get all of a 48 inch pipe wrench out of that hole, if we get any of it at all.
#
AFTER UNSUCESSFULLY ATTEMPTING TO FISH THE 48 INCH PIPE WRENCH OF THE DRILL HOLE.
Nick
See ya Joe. Im sorry that I couldn’t drill through your pipe wrench, I hope you’ll be happy when your somewhere else. I know Ill be happier when your somewheres else. You don’t have to go home but you cant stay here.
Joe
I knew you guys never liked me anyways. You’ve been trying to run me off ever since I got here. So now you finally got what you wanted.
Sam
No it was you that got yourself run off not anyone else. Next time you should try and get along with the other people on your crew and don’t drop any pipe wrenches in the hole.

Big Trucks | Craig Vernon

So I am driving down the road and I think to my self old people dont drive big trucks. In my never ending quest to be come less judgemental I find myself wondering why people of a certian socio-economical demographic are the guys who drive big trucks. Personaly I have always fancied myself as a motorcycle kind of guy, but I know the kind of guys that drive big trucks.