I slept in on that morning, of course, but woke up to a streak of swift loud knocks on my door the following day. They continued as the sunlight just grazed down brightly past all the windows in my cozy cabin. The longish white curtains installed on all the windows didn't make much difference.
I was still exhausted as I heard the knocking. I kept thinking about my work with Dolores the day before. The dream was not a priority. What was worse was that I ignored the obvious; that the demon had advanced further along in its plan. I was only a part-time shaman at this point. All boozed-up and strung-out, I was a disgrace.
I saw the glowing rays of the sun against the floorboards as I drifted in and out of my slumber.
I knew it had to be the grounds-woman or maybe some neighbors knocking on my door like that. It was so persistent. Probably an antsy acquaintance I had made in town or at one of the churches eager to fill me in on some of the latest town gossip, maybe someone wanted to have a conversation about Christ the Lord with me.
There were several churches around and missionaries were pretty commonplace. Keep in mind that this all happened in the summer of 2004 when I was in Montana for work.
There was a sect of strange Christians nearby that didn't believe in modern medicine at all. A few locals in town told me that they saw the devil in me and to repent my sins.
One of them told me that I was the devil incarnate before running away. I still believe that most of them were kind people who just wanted to belong, maybe I am just being nice by saying this.
Somehow everybody still appreciated my wit and sarcastic sense of humor and didn't really push me to join any congregation. Charm went a long way in places like this. This was far from being a big city and people were very friendly. I still wasn't used to it, but when in Rome do as the Romans do.
"Nooooo! Nooooo! Too early for all this Oral Roberts stuff!!! Nooo! No praying with you folks this early...pleeease, no!! I done been talking too much about Jesus already!! Please just let a brother be!!!" I cried out.
But the staccato of knocks simply persisted at an even higher rate with muffled sniggering going on behind the heavy door.
I got up realizing that there was going to be no way around this. Whoever it was, they wasn't just going to go away. At first, it seemed like there was actually more than one person outside.
"Alright! Jeeez! Can't let a man sleep!! Just don't talk to me for hours about the Bible or shoot me! Please don't be the KKK either! I haven't even had my coffee yet!..." I continued talking.
"...Coffee is necessary for salvation, you know?! Well, good morning to you, brother or sister and early-riser!" I cried, rubbing my eyes and mock-giggling with whoever the other person was outside as I started unlocking the door.
I was in my underwear and bare-chested when I turned the door-knob and the morning breeze began hitting my face. Once I opened up there was just one other person outside; the sun hitting them.
On the other side of the threshold stood this young girl. She couldn't be older than nineteen. Something about her made me instantly recall my dream, I didn't know what it was at first. Was life itself tapping my shoulder and trying to tell me something about myself?
I hoped to God that the person outside wasn't a freakin' missionary either because that would be sacrilege with those looks.
She was excitedly waving and said good morning back to me in her slick London accent; her front ivory teeth in full view as she giggled and smiled cordially. I asked myself...where do I know her from?
"Still all sloshed and hammered, then!? You know, when you rushed in with your car at 2AM you knocked over some garbage cans over there! Really bad parking-job mister!" Cried the girl, pointing at them in this contagiously upbeat way. I was a little taken aback because she appeared so animated for this early in the morning.
"I did? Who are you?" I responded with a loud yawn.
"...I was wide awake last night and my bedroom is right by them! I've picked them up for us so the Hobbs don't see! Was pretty jet lagged and they were empty anyway..." She added. The girl seemed to be quite self-assured, her voice melodious and soothing to hear.
Once I was able to finally zero in on that fox-like babyish face, I doubted whether I was awake or still sleeping. Only because the girl was a doppelgänger for Keira Knightly just like the girl from my dreams. I became a bit self-conscious for just a split-second.
I came to realize that if this wasn't Keira Knightley in front of me I was being greeted by possibly the most gorgeous looking creature I had ever seen in my life. An ethereal elfin sort of beauty, the only other person who ever really came close to her would be my wonderful non-elfin future wife, Paulette.
I curiously looked on as this very "elfish" acquaintance of the Hobbs continued to carry on. She kept jabbering away about things like her friend Astrid, Japan, lack of sleep, long flights and trying to settle into the ranch.
When I began making heavier eye contact though, I saw that she had slipped on a pair of pearly Buddy-Holly-like specs over those angular cheek-bones of hers. She was sporting a bandana with loose wisps of that delicate honey-brown hair of hers sleekly tumbling down over her ears and her hollow, powdery cheeks.
I thought nothing of it at the time but sensed that this person, whoever it was, was hiding something behind those expensive looking horn-rimmed glasses. Maybe she sensed something. Maybe that I recognized her...
It didn't take long for my own personality to shine through though.
"What? Jet lag, you say?? Japan, you say?? I thought you were here to baptize or to convert me..." I half-responded, struggling to recall the details of what the Hobbs had been telling me about our newest guest at the ranch.
Mind you, there had been some tension waging between the Hobbs and myself so I had been keeping my distance. I hated having tension with people in my life. I didn't want things to get uglier than they were.
"No, actually, just wanted to find out who on Earth was behind all that noise! You see, it's so quiet here! I am a person who is sensitive to blunt sounds. Wasn't it chilly all night? I was up smoking my fags and listening to Roxy Music in my robe in my bedroom for most of the night...I didn't get a lot of rest, did you?"
"I still might, you know? Get some rest. Listen...you're very cute and all, but you woke me up! I'm exhausted and you've interrupted my beauty sleep!" I grumbled still partially dazed. I waggled my fingers in front of those glasses of hers before moving to shut my door. I heard her gasping loudly from the other side.
You have to understand that I never responded well to flattery. It seemed like a strategy on part of the Hobbs to spy on me. In the end it didn't really matter to me who they might know. I was also so estranged from my spiritual work that I hardly cared what major actresses might be running around in my dreams either.
"No need to get so arsey! My, my, that's sooo rude! ...I say, sirrr! Wait!" The girl cried, sticking her foot in the way of the door on the opposite end. I remember being able to see one of her Converse plimsolls.
"...Okay, listen...hmmmm, miss....Shakespeare! I don't know how it works in England, but I work nights mostly, baby-girl! How can I make that clear!?" I challenged.
I saw her lower lip push itself upward in a cartoonish kind of pout. She was frowning, her sharp vampy eyebrows furrowing closely. I was beginning to like her.
"Ohhh, you're not very nice!"
"Alright, I'll give you two minutes then, before I shut the door. We can try this again...but only if you're polite," I returned.
Clothes-wise she was dressed very casually. She wore a claret colored track-top that had blue lines across the arms and waist. There was a team badge on the side of this uniform. It was a soccer team, West Ham.
She had this uniform snugly zippered up to her chin with the zipper dangling. She had been cutely raising herself up on her tip-toes here and there, her small sinewy breasts bouncing in place under her jacket.
Her bum also appeared to be quite springy although her body gave off a slightly anorexic look. She had on these blue little running shorts with white lines on the sides.
She kept trying to peer into my room while I stood at the door.
"Hey! What you looking at there, honey?!"
"Why, good morning to you too, sir!"
I didn't care to, out of exhaustion, but I refocused my eyes on this mysterious, sexy, fine-boned nymphette. She was resting one of her small hands against a hip, looking at me with her mouth semi-open.
Her lips were so red they didn't even need lipstick. She had the lips of an angel really, upturned, pouty and bee-stung at both ends much like the petals of some exotic flower. She seemed quite boyish yet quite feminine still.
"Right, lets start again then, shall we!? Maybe I have been acting rudely. Sorry! If you're Frankie Slayde, then I have something to give you," She cried with a half-suppressed laugh, biting her lower lip. She had this cute little snarl lighting up her face whenever she spoke. It was like a bitchy rich-girl sort of pout.
I noticed that her sharp porcelain jaw protruded from her face just a little. But the Celtic jawline and cute under-bite only added to the British sex-appeal of this little temptress.
As I peered down I noticed the white nail polish on her fingers, noticed that she was reading my name from some letters she was carrying in those warm hands.
"So, the Hobbs have someone reading my mail now?" I asked, giving her more crap. She didn't deserve it, of course, but she had made herself into such an easy target. It was fun.
"Listen, arsehole, these came for you, ok!? Looks like they are from Chicago. Is that your real name, then, Slayde?!" She inquired, giving me a quizzical look.
I had to check myself, actually, because I kept noticing the enticing buds of her breasts right in front of me; her nipples kept poking against the nylon of her jacket. You couldn't help but appreciate the ripe body on this seductive creature.
And, of course, that precious face. She was like a fresh white flower in the summer, so many delicate features.
Were there thorns on this English rose that a man could prick himself with? They had to be well hidden. She was certainly pretty enough to be a figure skater if the Hobbs were telling the truth. I still wasn't sure if I was awake or still dreaming.
