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Being the Death Valley
Last night I dreamt that I was Death Valley National Park. I was the accumulation of the desert sands, the rocks, the scarce shrubs and tiny plants, and the critters like armadillos, coyotes, and turtles.
Even though I was millions of years old, I felt young. You could even say springily. It turns out an area of land feels young because it sees itself in a universe that’s trillions of years old. It’s a youngster.
I found myself appreciating the Sun beaming down on me. I loved that heat as it baked me, and stored in my rocks, dirt, and underground rivers. I felt like I was a savings account for the Sun’s rays.
Occasionally a family of humans would drive across one of the many roads that traverse me. The family would get out and take photos with their portable telephones. The humans had such a strange smell, and were loud. But I wasn’t bothered because they were a brief blip on my time radar.
My interesting hobby
I took my time-travel machine back to May 2nd, 1519, to a large château in the city of Amboise, France. I wandered around until I found the room with Leonardo Da Vinci on his death bed.
Leonardo was alone, as his nurse was asleep in a chair outside the room.
Leonardo looked up at me and said something in Italian. I don’t speak the language, so I pointed to my mouth and shook my head. He was breathing fast, and looked very tired, and afraid. I picked up a towel from the nightstand, and mopped his fevered brow.
I sat down in a chair next to Leonardo and held his hand. His breathing slowed. His eyes got soft. I began to hum a song to him that I made up. His eyes closed and he smiled. His breath came to a stop. I put his hands, one over the other, on his chest.
I took his picture with my iPhone and left the room. I got back in my time machine and returned to the current time. I hooked up the phone to my computer and downloaded the death photo of Leonardo Da Vinci. I put the photo in a folder called DHC. That stands for Dead Historic Celebrities.
I get a lot of pleasure traveling back in time to just before the death moment of famous people in history. When I arrive, I do what I can to bring them peace of mind. And when they die, I snap their picture. Helping them relax often results in a photo with a posthumous beatific expression.
The previous week I traveled back 1336 BC to share the final moments of life with Akhenaten, an 18th dynasty pharaoh of Egypt. He also lay in his death bed. When he saw me, he said, “Osiris!” who was the god of the afterlife. He must have thought I was there to accompany him to the after-world. He slipped away with a grin like the Cheshire Cat.
Me and the Russian
I went for a walk through the field with Russian President Vladimir Putin. We held hands. It was his idea. I went along with it because I’m easily intimidated by big-wigs.
I mentioned that I like to be in a field because I’m taller than all the wheat. It’s not something I could say if I was walking in the forest amongst trees.
Putin said that he liked walking in the field because it allows him to forget about all the things he had to do that day as President. I said that I completely understood. Again, I’m overwhelmed by people in power. That’s why I had to stop hanging out with President Richard Nixon when I was a kid.
Brooks in the aqueduct
It hadn’t rained for months, so I chose to take a walk through the dry aqueduct. I liked this because of the immense silence. Usually there was a strong and raging river present.
I also enjoyed that I was now the river rolling through the aqueduct. Being Brooks, it was just that I assumed this role.
The movement of my arms and legs were waves, my breath the sound of waves. I looked about me as I was certain a wave would do. I caught sight above me at a flock of storks who flew at my rate and speed. Traveling with a current is a common occurrence among packs of birds.
I imagined runoffs of water flowing into the aqueduct and merging with me. We would be the Brookses!
Hanging out with Luther the Fruit fly
I spent the day hanging out with my friend,
Luther the Fruit-fly. Let me first say that I didn’t write “Fruit-fly” to point out that he’s that particular species. He likes his first name to be included with this particular moniker.
Anyway, we talked about how we’ve been friends longer with each other than any other friend we’ve ever known – 13 years. The longest I’ve ever been friends with someone else was with Morris the catfish. And I’m including the four years in the middle that we couldn’t stand each other.
Luther the Fruit-fly said, “I like how you smell. It’s like French fries dipped in lavender. Sometimes I can’t even hear the words you are saying because I’m so entranced by your smell.”
I said, “I like how we can wrestle in the grass for hours and it never feels sexual.”
