See how it was dried and fried by a hot sun of sorts. I was amused by how, even in its death, it camouflaged itself with the grey concrete pretty well. The lizard must have died in a dramatically, with a right hand put to its chest in restraint, and a left hand caught dead flailing with unrestraint. Now they're dried and stuck there forever. This lizard must have been left alone to die, with nobody around to rest the body in a more comfortable resting position.
I was moved by it. It looks so heartbroken. Don't you agree?
Come to think of it, it's been more than two years since I wrote about the jilted lizard, a heartbroken lizard I met in a dream before this. It was on a hot day too. I wonder how is he.
Was this he? I curiously examined the anatomy of the dead lizard, if it was a female then it won't be the jilted lizard. But it was male... I think.
"Poor, poor, lizard, are you the jilted lizard? Have you come back to look for me? Do you have something to tell me? Or are you another lizard? Did you die heartbroken too? Do all lizards take matters of love so seriously...?"
"It doesn't matter," the dead lizard suddenly said, "Whether I died heartbroken or were wronged or were right, or if I were the jilted lizard or not, I died. And I am no more. You may take me home and season me with salt to eat, because I am crispy and will taste nice."
In the blink of an eye, the dead lizard had jumped into a plastic container, that had suddenly appeared, with a cover that says it's "microwave reheatable", and "reheatable" is apparently not even a word. I realised that the plastic container used to contain horfun but was washed and cleaned out to be reusable (which, by the way, qualifies as a word).
When I woke up, he was on my bed-side table.
To be able to take pictures in dreams is one thing, and to have a dead lizard who told me to eat him in my dream and then to wake up next to him is at a triple-advanced level that I didn't know I was at.
I wanted to apologise to him for taking him home, but he did say that he was dead and no more. I'm not sure if I agree with him, because if he was dead and no more, how could he speak to me?
Today is a wonderful day, with the weather the way I like it. It may be a little too cloudy to see the blue skies, but the winds are blowing and herding the clouds by fast. The trees are dancing, and if I close my eyes and listen carefully, I can hear the sha-sha sound from the different trees. The sound of the palm trees. The sound of the pine trees. The sound of the dunno-what-they're-called-trees. The sound of my curtains flying, the sound of the hairs on my ears tingling... the clackity-clack of me typing... the voices in my head... the lizard's talking... The world is alive, and the wind - its breath, and these sounds - its music and song.
Is the dead lizard not yet dead? Like how the world is alive, as long as I pay my attention to it? I don't know, because, here, right in front of me, in his plastic coffin, with a broken tail and two little bulgy things that look like they were testicles, lies a lifeless corpse - an undeniable reminder. That the dead lizard is dead. Like how I shall one day die. And that it won't really matter how or why.
(For the dead lizard and the jilted lizard. RIP.)
No comments:
Post a Comment