Oh I dare say! I saw this ol´fellow and just a glance at him made me sure about his looks. He for sure did look like a waste of time. Oh no! I don´t mean for pleasure. I mean a waste. Like he had been in remote places no living creature would want to visit. In ragged clothes. Like a face worn out of drinking too much. Sort of clumsy and – an idiotic sight all together! I hated him down to my gut and made myself very clear when adressing him. ”I don´t want to speak with you...I want nothing from you...”
My Mrs Wilkinfrience was also sure about it. She claimed: ”Can´t you see he is on drugs? Rather he used to be, now he is a whole way through with life. I am glad he won´t survive. A something like that!” I agreed. He was something that the dog dragged in. I could not even pity him. Although my friend Mrs W. Did pity him. She was a true Christian, even Catholic and said with a tone of half anger, half humble emotions that we had to do something. Not because of the fellow himself, but perhaps Xenia-feelings would do us good. One never knows what path life itself can take. I refused to listen to that ear. I refused to believe in some kind of silly charity. Cause the waste is waste and of no good. Imagine for yourself! He could have been eating a dog for breakfast and a child for lunch. I laughted at this very thought. Somehow I was amused, felt like my tipping mouth knew a smile of horror. What else could I feel?
Mrs W. And I had a conference about it. ”For charity only. I must do my Christian deeds. I can let him be out there on the street. But I would not want my dear mum to turn around in her grave. Come now old friend! Come round to my point!”
I refused again to listen. Drank her tea and decided to go home with no conclusion as usual. See, this Mrs W. always managed to talk me over to her side. I just about hated to feel like I always melted away in the mixture of her best arguments. So for charity? That was her latest idea, to presume about. But assume I would no more. Not with this man, this kind of a thing. He belonged to the bin. And I would put a cover on top. No more Mr whoever! No more anything.
A real hard tone of fear was hitting the inner side of my ears. A hard tone that began rising until I felt I could hear no more. And for sure did not want to hear any more arguments. Charity? What for? On whose account?
Have you ever admitted this kind of fear before? Sensing something dirty, nasty, something ugly and worn out. Like something that touch you with something forbidden. The very idea to submit to someone who might rape you is odd. And awful. And gives you a feeling of the void from within. The void you cannot grasp, with no means and methods. It is this emotion you feel when facing death, a corpse, a worm that crawl the ground. And worms thrive in the mud and in the dirt. What was class about?
Mrs W. tried her best argument next time I saw her. We drank some wine. Had a bite. Talked about this and that. Had nothing else to do this evening. The sunset of Dalbo did hit the windows with a glare of red. And it was an astonishing scenery that evening. You know we are thought about to live in the greenest of all places. Växjö city. A city renown because of Pär Lagerkvist (gotta mention him as he got the Nobel prize in literature. My city see?…) And suddenly she had me over to her side.
I had been dating with a remote relative to Pär. He was handsome. Almost too kind. Gave me his guitar and taught me to become a female Bob Dylan. Because of this she had me in her old box this time, as usual. I fell into her ways of thought.
”You know, your object of hate? You know this dirty old fellow. Him you don´t dare mention at nights? He used to be a priest. Has been publishing a book of philosophy. Not very known today. Is a remote relative to the Nobel prize winner. Pär? Don´t you connect to it then? About our charirty and how to find him a home. Well…?”
I felt something. I felt like an idiot wind was crossing my brain. My BB? And Pär? And a philosopher. So he was the one living in a barrel? Well, but eh...well...how would I? How could anyone deny?
Suddenly Mrs W. picked up a photo from her handbag. A photo of some kind of a handsome man. Young. Proud. Smiling. He looked like BB, my own lover once. And it hit me from a side. Why would she show me this photo?
”It´s him, your own projection of fear and death. He was young at that picture. Had a girlfriend and two children. They own that place close to Evedal. That big house. Their dad refuses to live on their money. He prefers being free and without bonds. A true philosopher. He only sips the wind and the sun. A true one. So now?...” A pause. Iwas sort of…. Well off with the house and the money! But he was a handsome man wasn´t he? And I fell into that old void when I heard another tone from within. I heard a Bob Dylan song. It played on my nerves of Futuristic steel and I had to let go of it all.
I went home that evening as I did many times before. And I felt like crying of a soft something else that began touching me. I was weak of sorrow. I was sad. I was almost humble. If it was the wine? Or was it the same old Mrs W. getting across to me with her manner and her style. I could no more escape.
Two weeks later I woke up one morning. I had dreamt about this fellow. We were friends and celebrated something. Perhaps our new heraldy of thoughts. It was something magic in that dream. It was real for sure. And when I woke up I knew he was my friend. See, I know my dreams. Was it because of philosophy or what? The very next day I came to know from Mrs W. that the fellow had died in a car accident.
I cried a bit at the funeral. Very many people were there. We sang hymns. His two children cried with the crowd. And it was like I really was his friend. A meeting for the first time with a death that gave me something. Death within gave room for a realm of an otherness I had not felt before. And it was not sad. Yes I cried, but I cried because of my stubborn heart, more so than for the goodbye at the funeral. No it was not a goodbye. It was a hallo, and how are you? Nice to meet you!
It was a fresh new friendship with my darkest fear that had opened up my eyes for a bigger life. That man had somehow opened up this realm. In this realm friendship itself was the clue...