This is actually not a dream. This is my inescapable obsession, a catalog of details from a possible future. If I choose correctly, things can still be set right. I only need to assemble the appropriate objects, component parts of my next self. What alternative do I have? What other end?
All along, I never considered the idea of killing myself. Lately, these merged-together nights, the possibility keeps repeating, an unwanted suggestion offered in a flat, toneless voice. I'm interested in specific details, a visual fantasia like an endless, garish slide show.
I'll use the knife Karl gave me. That grim old utilitarian hunk of steel, fragrant of blood and oil and decades-old rust. Slice open my belly, split myself apart and scoop out my insides. Offer my guts to the river.
What shape will I—
I use the blade without testing it first, find it sharp. I'm willing to cut.
Something dead floats away.
Blood on the ground, taste it in my mouth. Sticky hands, smeared lips. What is the source of this endlessly flowing blood? I hear rushing, a hot current. In the night, women float past, dark faces indistinct. Try to imagine details.
Michelle's long auburn hair tied back straight. Lips pursed around a tart secret.
In her place a taller blond whose face keeps shifting, unresolved. This is the shape from Karl's room, a woman I know because I've imagined her, though we've never met. Her body just an outline, details withheld by darkness. Her face invisible.
She doesn't belong to—
Another, new and different. What form will she take, my own design? She hides among trees, sleeps beside water, waits for me beneath open sky. She asks questions without words. Hair dark, eyes large, skin pale. We chose each other. Been waiting so long, holding on for some impetus outside myself. An offered invitation, or unequivocal arrival onstage.
Yes, I would give my blood.
Say it aloud, say I'll risk for you, I'll offer trade. Possess, devour.
Don't go yet, she says. Not until—
I wake, speaking around her essence, trying to conjure the lost name from a sound. Keep repeating the idea of her, circle around. Declare myself, stand forward. Fear can't resist forever the pull of desire.
The knife is so sharp.