Eaton Hamilton

Has anyone considered the astonishing idea of blaming the abuse on the abuser?

Tag: dreams

Why do you write?

painting by Eaton Hamilton 2021

Someone on FB asked why we write. I had a dream where the horses from my childhood were starving. The food I found ran out but there was still a filly to feed, and I found her a plastic pen. I was worried that the plastic would shatter in her throat.

She’s how I would talk about writing. She was starving and the pen could save her–but it also came with splinters.

Last Night I Had Another Running Dream

I ran up island hills through a tunnel carved for cars in Douglas firs and lodgepole pine, through the smell of leaf mold and the exhalations of small animals breathing. I passed a four-point buck mangy with ticks, a raccoon with a high rear end.  It was late, and the sunlight slanting through branches was full of pollen,  spores,  and dust.  I ran through shadow and buttery yellow triangles.  Down hill.  Up hill.  Each footfall charged me as if by battery.  There was no gimped heart knocking protest from inside its bone jail, no vascular disease squeezing the oxygen gone, no challenging hip, no broken sesamoid bone, and I realized:  I can do this.  I was free, a ground creature, running.

I was free, a ground creature, running.

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