by Frank J. Edler
To dream that you are inflating something represents intellect, awareness, knowledge and a higher power. Alternatively, it may symbolize your inflated ego or inflated sense of self.
The yogi cradled my lifeless vessel in his arms. He was gentle and caring like a guardian; tender and intense like a lover. Like a newly smitten lover he promised me Nirvana on the tranquil stretch of beach where we met only moments ago.
“Not like the Kurt Cobain kind, either.” he quipped in a thick Indian accent.
I didn’t understand the joke.
He began to man-handle me. I was tossed this way and that, fumbled around like a scrap of paper that he was scanning, eager to find important information. He found what he was looking for near my right buttock. I could feel him fiddle with my polyurethane skin. I felt pulling and pinching sensations but they were vague like the prodding of a dentist after a severe Novocaine injection.
Then, in an instant I felt open to new possibilities. I was open, ready for him to fill me with his spirit and mind. I didn’t know why the switch turned on so sudden. He told me there were truths of life which I must understand. I gave him my undivided attention.
“Life is inherently painful, my love. That is the first truth.” His tone was that of a stern lover.
“Suffering stems from our attachment to possessions, relationships and life.” he continued.
That truth shook me to my air-locked core. My yogi love was telling me the pain I could not yet feel was caused by my attachment to him. I was confused but held faith in his masculine voice to guide me.
After he allowed me a moment to consider the first two truths, he went on, “Enlightenment and happiness can be achieved if we let go of our attachments and desire to control the things around us. The ultimate state of which is Nirvana.”
“Not the Kurt Cobain kind either.” he added once again as an aside.
Still, I did not understand the joke.
“The fourth truth is that we must follow the Noble Eightfold Path if we are to achieve Nirvana.”
I said nothing. I couldn’t.
Then he placed his lips to my ass where he had been manipulating. A kiss on ground zero of my open soul. And he blew.
My body began to take for from its deflated, two-dimensional form. I was a long way from full but I was on my way.
After the first filling breath, he took his lips from the stem protruding from my buttock. His breath had carried a part of him inside of me. The warm wind that swirled within me whispered, “First, you must accept the four truths and accept life empty of expectations.” This knowledge married itself to me, a thing I did not know a moment ago was now emblazoned in my psyche.
He pressed his lips to the stem on my buttock once more and breathed.
The breath told me the second of the Noble Eightfold Path was to lead my life refrained from manipulation. With the knowledge my body felt fuller still.
Another breath, another truth. Moral discipline, right speech, right action all were revealed to me as each successive breath fill out my true form.
I began to feel like a person. I began to feel my body. I began to feel enlightened.
The six breath he exhaled into me taught me to live a life by the right effort. The seventh breath was right mindfulness. I was nearly full. I felt alive and aware. I was on the verge of something fantastic. I had come so far from the box I was trapped within only moments before.
The yogi rescued me from my prison. He showed me an open life and vast love. I was formless, lifeless, plastic and unaware. Now I was but one step from Nirvana. And not the Kurt Cobain kind, whatever the fuck that meant.
The yogi inhaled deep and with purpose for his eighth and final breath. He placed his lips to the stem protruding from my ass and let loose his life giving air into my body. I filled until my seams stretched. My curves filled out fully. From head to toe I was complete. I knew the eighth and final step: right concentration.
The yogi placed my bare feet on the ground. I would have wished for toes to curl in the hot sand but my enlightenment taught me to give up want for such Earthly things. Instead I breathed in my own breath and appreciated all there was to appreciate without want for anything more perfect than I already was.
“Felicia,” the Yogi said to me taking me hand, “you are complete. Now we can complete the universe, together. That is what the universe has called us together for.”
He extended his weathered hand to take my fingerless hand in his. He did not see me for the plastic inflatable love doll that I was. The yogi saw me as a completion of the universe. He the beginning and I the end. We joined hands and completed the circuit of the universe. In turn, the universe opened a bright, white doorway on the beach for us to walk though.
A hand extended out through the white light, inviting us in. We walked through that portal, hand in hand, accepting whatever Nirvana had in store for us.
“Welcome,” the light spoke as we entered it, “my name is Kurt Cobain.”
Frank J. Edler is the author of SCARED SILLY, five frighteningly funny tales to tickle your funny bone. His stories can also be found in Still Dying 2, Strange Versus Lovecraft, Strange Fucking Stories as well as the State of Horror anthologies. His writing spans Horror to Bizzaro and points in between.
He is also co-host of the wildly popular podcast Books, Beer and Bullshit. His podcasting antics can be heard at http://booksbeerbullshit.podbean.com or the companion blog http://booksbeerblogshit.blogspot.com. You can follow him on Twitter (@NJMetal), Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/FrankJEdler and read his own blog, Opinions Are Like Assholes And I Have One at http://FrankJEdler.Blogspot.Com
Look for Frank’s first full length novel, Brats In Hell, late 2015.
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