Cut Baby
Posted by blogger in May 5, 2007
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My girlfriend had a baby. Our baby. The baby who came out too early. The girl who needed to be inside her mom for two more months. But there was no way we could place her back inside. We, of course decided to keep her. Thinking about her proper nutrition, body temperature, sleep and all… We were thinking of an incubator to place her into. To keep her warm. We needed a nice warm environment for our baby. Temperature control was our short-term goal. Because you were always afraid that the baby would get cold.
It was not that easy to find an incubator. So temporarily we were going to keep her in a paper juice box. Yes, she was that small and fit into a juice box. The Euroshoper orange juice box. You can buy this brand of juice in Europe, cheaply, for half-a-euro. We filled the box with warm water to keep the baby warm. Up to her neck, so she can breath. So we can breath.
You carry her around in the box, which is in your bag. Or in your backpack. The juice box is open so that the baby doesn’t suffocate. You check from time to time that it is open. That the baby is alright. You carry her around. But the time passes and the baby seems to be the same in size. And not growing. And as white as a candle. Your immidiate guess - she is dead. But no. She is not. She just froze. Her blood circulation stopped. She was so white that you could not imagine any blood inside of here at all. You push her against your knee, toss her in your hands. And she gets back to life. Still too cold. The reason why that happened - is because we froze the water. And the baby in it. Because we placed the box into the fridge. By mistake. The water froze the baby. But she is alive. Well, then she was alive. It was not what took her away from us. It was not the case.
Once, we were watching a football game with all our family, three of us. From the field, we went to buy some drinks. On the way back we left the baby by the coffee machine. And went on to the game. When we realized we had left the baby it was too late. When we returned, it was cut intp two accuarate lines. Like heroin. By goths or some other scum.
Detached Foot of a Woman
Posted by blogger in April 27, 2007
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This is how a detached foot & leg of a woman look like. An image from my dream.
I have no clue why the foot of the woman detached from her leg. The leg seemed to be a whole piece of her body, like any other part. No wounds, nothing. The woman didn’t even make any effort to detach it. Neither did I. It just fell off. There were these tiny sticks in her leg cuts. You can see them in the picture. As if the two parts were meant to be attached again. Those little sticks that you see in the picture… because of them I was able to attach the foot back into place. This is my second dream about body parts.
However, I remember a few years ago I was holding a head of my class mate, a girl named Vera. In my hands. But in that case I took her head off myself. I do not remembr why. And this is another story. For now search ‘cut fingers’.
Cut Fingers
Posted by blogger in April 1, 2007
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You are standing in line with sweat on your face, in line to the emergency room. You are holding your ring fingers in your hands. Nicely cut off your ring fingers. In front of you old ladies and men who don’t seem to be that desperate to get help are queued. You want to get in faster. You are worried about the time because from anatomy classes you remember that if you cut your body parts and freeze them immidiately, perhaps, they can be attached again. It’s been already 15 minutes since you found yourself biking without two fingers. One is hanging down your pants, the other one you hold in your hand. So, when in the hospital, you only think about the pressing time. You want to have your fingers attached. Standing in line you are trying to do it on your own. You attach the finger, it won’t hold, because both surfaces are too dry. You don’t want to think it is too late. You imagine how doctors cut a slice from your remaining finger and from the detached finger to make the surfaces wet and sticky to put them back into place. Together. Althou I felt the time pressure, I didn’t feel any pain. I ran to the doctors when I got scared to wait any longer. And the doctor smiled when he saw my fingers. You know, that wise, I-know-everything smile. When I woke up, the first thing I did, I checked my fingers. They were allright. Now I remember a surgery on my thumb in real life not that long ago, when I got the finger into the bike lock. My nail is still black on one side.
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