Just a Trunk Full of Guns...

“You know we’re just a trunk full of guns away from being the Devil’s Rejects right?”. His voice is almost calming. I look over from the passenger seat of the car to the man in the driver’s seat. This man. That is driving my car. Speaking boisterously to me. I do not know this man. Not really. Yet his voice radiates with a chaotic calm that I cannot describe. Maybe like the beautiful peace that a person feels while in the eye of a storm? That is not doing it justice… I’m not sure that I even reply to him. In my tainted memory, I would like to think that I at least glanced over to him with a smile and nod. Perhaps even a laugh? But I will never forget his words.

This is when reality finally hit me. Whatever reality is. All reality is for me is the state of my soul. And my soul feels broken. Confused. In a fog. Was I living in a fog for days? For months? What is the date? What state are we currently driving in? I cannot answer any of these questions… The trunk. He mentioned the trunk. The trunk is full of belongings. A broken lamp notedly. But he does not know the contents of the trunk. Why would he? Hell, it COULD be a trunk full of guns. I wouldn’t put it past me. A Free Bird moment wouldn’t be all that bad right now anyhow…

The lamp breaking hurt my heart. It was packed in such a rush, and not by my own careful hands… I should be happy though. I should be ecstatic that I was able to pack the entire car full of our most important belongings so hastily. My papers… Files. The closets full of clothes are gone… But I have her. I have my warrior daughter. And her broken lamp.

I cuddle the unicorn pillow in my lap and glance to the backseat at her… Funny that later this man driving us would tell me that he was sneaking glances at me as I was cuddling this pillow. And again, his account of this story would be much different than mine. Perspective is everything really, isn’t it? A thin woman, perhaps a bit too thin at this time… Clutching a unicorn pillow. Wearing a mini skirt. Blonde long hair, sunglasses and a hat… A washed up model. “She can tell you about black holes”. Apparently what this man was told about me before meeting me… Perspective.

My daughter. She is stoic. Calm. Strong. A warrior. My mini-me. Sitting crammed into a mountain of belongings filling the car. Two dogs in the backseat with her, and two cats as well. Chaos. But joy. Calm. Just like his voice. Who is this man? Things were so fast paced when we left our temporary hotel that I hadn’t really had the chance to analyze him yet…

But I am not crazy. I could read his aura. His soul. God. God told me he was safe. Safe enough to make this necessary drive with. A modern day Knight in Shining Armor I suppose. In whatever way a modern day twisted reality could give to such a dying notion. But he has an old soul. Strong eyes. A strong energy that is almost difficult to be around while feeling so weakened in my own. Does his shirt have pelicans on it? Who is this man…

I fade back out into the blur… I must have fallen back asleep. The first real sleep I have gotten in days. He wakes me up as we reach a hotel. Our midway destination. I guess my sister set up this arrangement. Trying to get us home safely… Bless her heart. I was too confused and overwhelmed to do it myself. He tells me I can rest, and I do not even remember going to the room… I just fall into the bed and sleep… I guess they have the animals covered. The car… Food? Someone finally took the reigns for me… All I can do is sleep. God Bless this man… Who is this man? Keep the reigns for the minute mystery man. I trust you. I do not know why, but I trust you.

“Just a trunk full of guns…”. I wake up a bit panicked. As I had been doing for months now. Naps can be dangerous when you haven’t fully soaked in reality. Waking to reality again when being in a fog is overwhelming. Waking up in a shaking panic every morning at 3am can become quite taxing. But this panic is different. It is not 3am. The fog has lessened. I’m in a hotel. No-one is with me. It is too quiet. I start to frantically look for my cell phone. I need to get a bearing on time, location, situation. But I hear laughter. Laughter. I can feel a lightness coming towards me, removing the heavy sense of impending doom that is suffocating me.

And there is his voice again? Such a deep, calming, chaotic voice. He bursts into the hotel room with my daughter jovially. I’m so relieved to see them. THEM. Not just her. But him as well. Okay Mr. Knight, trunk full of guns, pelican shirt, chaotic calm. Who in the world are you? A chef. He is a chef. And he took my daughter to get food. To let me rest. Trusting I suppose that I trusted him enough to do so. Hell, he probably asked me for permission. I was too busy living in my fog to remember.

And I suppose that he “saves girls”. His words. “This isn’t the first time I’ve done this”. I do remember him saying that. What an odd statement. What is “this” anyhow? I surely have never done “this” lol. This is how I first remember him. Although I’m sure his account is much, much different. He looks like a warrior. A warrior with a crazy beard. A warrior with a crazy beard in a pelican shirt with piercing blue eyes that dance when he speaks. I’m a little smitten by his eye crinkles… He smiles with his eyes. Back to the road. I can see the eye crinkles plenty from there.

So, it is back to the road, to driving, rather quickly after rest. At least that is how it occurred in my own mind. Time is relative? I do not remember resting other than the initial fade out. Although we probably had a full night of sleep there, at this hotel. Did I even talk to this man? Did I help unload and reload the animals? Did I just go back to sleep and rest a full night? Oh, how memory works when in a fight or flight response. Which has been justifiably changed to “fight, flight or flee” (my degree in psychology has done nothing for the trials of life). I guess I did the new addition. I fled.

All I can remember of the trip home after this is that the car felt lighter. Happier. The same music playing over. And over. And over. AND OVER. Thanks Sis. My daughter is too much like me in this regard. She has a CD, that my sister made her before our departure ,playing. And the first song is called “D-O-L-L-H-O-U-S-E”. This is a song that will NEVER stop playing through my head now in moments of calm after stress. Thanks, Brain ;). It is often good at sidetracking to song lyrics when my brain is ready for a break.

The video for this song… Begins with a girl in a dark room.. Playing with a dollhouse. Fake. This fake puppet of a poor girl. Woman… I should analyze why my 11 year old daughter loves this song this much… I should… But I just fade into it for now, accepting it. This poor man. He is stoic, his eyes that smile look a bit sad. More sad than annoyed right now. I really should analyze the song… But I fade back into the soothing numb with my daughter.

Hey girl, open the walls

Play with your dolls

We'll be a perfect family

When you walk away, is when we we really play

You don't hear me when I say

Mom, please wake up, dad's with a slut

And your son is smoking cannabis

No one ever listens, this wallpaper glistens

Don't let them see what goes down in the kitchen

Places, places, get in your places

Throw on your dress and put on your doll faces

Everyone thinks that we're perfect

Please don't let them look through the curtains

Picture, picture, smile for the picture

Pose with your brother, won't you be a good sister

Everyone thinks that we're perfect

Please don't let them look through the curtains

D-O-L-L-H-O-U-S-E

I see things that nobody else sees

(D-O-L-L-H-O-U-S-E

I see things that nobody else sees)

Hey girl, look at my mom

She's got it going on

Ha! You're blinded by her jewelry

When you turn your back

She pulls out her flask

And forgets his infidelity

Uh-oh, she's coming to the attic

Plastic, go back to being plastic

Not living in that song. Not right now. But i’m glad that my daughter has something to soothe her on this drive. Such a long drive.

We’re going home :)!!! I am finally flooded by the happiness of this! I cannot wait to see the sign for Arkansas. What a beautiful state… I can’t wait to see my mother. To fall into the stressful discomfort on going to crash at her house with my scattered goods, child and animals. I know that I have a lot of planning to do, but in times of chaos the first step is the most important. Even if a million things have to happen to lead to that first step, the first push is everything. It is your flint.

All one can do is put one foot in front of the other. To steal from alcoholics anonymous, if one cannot go through the day, break the day down into hours. Into minutes. Into seconds if need be. As long as you keep moving, and with a purpose and good in your heart, the rest will fall into place. And if you know you did it with the light in your intentions, then the rest of the dark that comes along with it is a necessary evil. Because evil does exist. God exists. So evil does as well. Forgetting this is one thing that allows the evil to creep in. And sadly, we all must learn that the hard way.

Hauntingly ironic that the man saving me right now would be the one I truly learn about evil through and with. First I must get home. And then. Then I can learn about true evil. And finding God. It all comes down to God… Sadly we must traverse the world of evil together first. That is just how it must be.