I was sleeping when Pindock came. Although it can be hard to say sometimes what’s awake or asleep. I was sleeping, and the flames had long been out. I was sleeping, and the bones and scraps were still lying next to me. It must have gone dark before I could put things in their place.
I had a strange dream. The walls were shaking and roaring, but I was not afraid. I said, oh, the walls are shaking, and I went outside. Outside the wind was blowing, but I was not afraid. I grabbed my other arm, closed my eyes, tightened my grip and went further out. The trees were shaking, the bushes were shaking, the waters and rocks below suddenly did not look so far, but I was not afraid. I said, I want to eat a kirxid. I am hungry.
I went to where the kirxid graze. I climbed down on my knees in the tall grass and crawled and crawled and crawled. I did not want the kirxid to hear me. I lay flat on my belly and crawled and crawled and crawled until even roots, sticks and mud gave way. I did not want the kirxid to see me.
The sun was enormous, the size of two richtipods, the size of the gorge beyond the green, the size of the big red hole in the ground at the center of the world. The sun did not seem angry, indeed, quite the opposite. It was overflowing with happiness that would not be contained. This must have been the cause of the winds. This must have been the cause of the roars. I looked at the sun and smiled.
It was time. There was a lone kirxid standing apart from the others, its head sunk into the ground as it searched for roots. I threw my other arm, which the air swallowed whole before it could reach its target.
Then I heard a voice shouting from above the trees and the rocks, the waters and the bushes. I said, who are you shouting like that, but I knew it was Pindock. You always hear Pindock, before you see Pindock, as though thunder came before lightning.
A voice replied, I am the shout of the storm, I am the crack of the wave, I am the cry from the other side.
I smiled, and quickly responded, I know you not. If you were a storm, I could feel your rains. If you were a wave, I could feel your oceans. If you were a side, I could reach over and turn you around. You must be mistaken. Who are you really?
The tall grass quivered, and the voice bellowed, I am the snake that devours. I am the wolf always hunting. I am the lion guarding its den.
I am Pindock, and if you don’t know me yet, you’ll soon tremble in your understanding.
You must be confused, I replied, what you’re saying makes little sense. Show yourself, so I can see with my eyes who you are. I know not your ragged voice.
Then the earths opened up, the fires erupted out and enveloped all in their licking flames. I saw a dark figure taller than the tallest trees emerge momentarily bathing in the burning night of day before disappearing again. I covered my mouth so Pindock would not hear my cry.
Are you then a star? But you are not so bright. Are you then a mountain? But still I must bend down to see you. Are you then an unspeakable name? And yet, I’m sure I could pronounce it if only you would tell me what it really is.
Foolish man, must I wake you from your slumber, must I knock the walls in before you crouch down in recognition?
If you won’t tell me then your truth must not be worth my empty belly. I laughed terribly as though my other arm had struck a kirxid which was now sinking into the mud. I laughed terribly and walked away.
I laughed terribly and woke up.
What a strange dream to have tonight of all nights. What a strange dream to have knowing that in few hours the other arms of other men will be flying to meet me.
And I am hungry, but what could I eat? The kirxids are long gone.