Dreamed 1995/7/9 by Chris Wayan
I'm a Zen monk, famous for martial arts. But in fact I have little training in fighting--I just see what's in front of me and act optimally to defuse it. I don't LIKE conflict, so my awareness naturally works to end fights quickly. Winning or losing is less important than ending the danger. Most fighters act as they've been trained, so they manifest conflict. It's that simple for me.
Or so I thought till now.
I'm staying in a barn. Haybales, hooks and ropes... But theater props are piled in a corner. The barn's being used as the temporary backstage for a traveling circus.
A woman comes in who has some free time. She's in a long dress and square-cut blouse, patched and worn--not performing today. She sits on a haybale and talks with me. We flirt a bit.
I'm enjoying myself.
Suddenly men burst in and prowl around the room, using the hay for cover so I see them only in flashes. I'm unsure even how many--three or four? They're fast!
Then they allow me a good look. They all have lion fangs! The craggy jaws of lions. Fascinating. Circus cats and their trainers must have interbred!
No women among my stalkers. They must exist somewhere--I wonder what they're like, with this catlike fluidity and speed? Strange--I haven't even seen them, and yet I'm already more intrigued by the mere possibility of meeting lion-girls than I am by the human girl sitting right by me! I think "food might be a problem--they must be carnies and I'm a veg." I'm already turning away from dating humans to lions, sight unseen! This must have been my latent sexual orientation all along... and I never knew.
I greet the lion-men, but they stalk me silently and professionally. treat me as an enemy. Slink to the sides, try to get behind me.
Finally they close in all at once, in a rush--and now I can't avoid fighting. Punch a big guy and he just looks at me--doesn't even blink!
Uh oh. I'm a Zen master, and what I notice is, I'm in trouble.
Time to surrender. I lower my hands.
But how can I find out why they treat me as an enemy, if they won't talk?
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