My Trip to Hell

I went to hell last night. Well heaven also. And I didn't even have to die.

I didn't realize it was a dream until I woke up.


So I think the dream begins at my parents house, where many of my dreams do, which is funny because I moved out when I was eighteen. Admittedly, I have moved back in a couple hard times since then, haven't lived there in years. In fact I don't even live in the same state as them, not even close. But many of my dreams begin or take place there. I guess we all begin where we come from. Especially in our consciousness of our self. Especially our subconscious self
( My therapist would love this.)

So here I was, walking into my parent's house, I think it was at Christmas time for some reason, and the little ranch rambler was all lit up and looking pretty with sparkling tree in the window. Or what I assumed was sparkly tree in the window. What it really was the reflection in the window of fire and brimstone, presided over by a squatty red headed ogre and and accompanied by a gray haired old crone who, come to think of it, did bear certain resemblances to my parents.

Each of them was lording over a hole in the floor where the fire place should have been. The ogre's hole was full of what you would expect to find in hell, fire and brimstone, red hot chillies, corrupt politicians, that sort of thing. The crone's portal looked more like the entrance to a slide at a water park, or one of those kiddy rides that takes you on a little train around a backdrop and all you have to do is strap yourself in. and each of them like a carny at the state fair was trying to get me to jump in. Actually that is not entirely true. I think the ogre actually said something in a huge, dragon's voice something like "CHOOSE YOUR OWN PERSONAL HELL" which really doesn't sound that appealing.

At first I was under the impression at first that they were both my own personal hell, and I had to choose one. Well that's crappy odds I thought. But what is a girl to do? Then I guess I figured out that one of them was Hell, and by default the other one was Heaven. Or maybe I asked the crone, by far the more reasonable looking of the two.

The crone, who like any carny is not supposed to reveal the tricks of the trade, leaned closer to me and explained in her crotchety voice, "They aren't both Hell honey, only one is Hell. You have to choose which one is."

While the one without the fire and smoke coming out of it seemed like it might be the obvious choice, I have seen the movie the Labyrinth before and know that things like this aren't always what they seem. Besides I kind of like hot firey places and people. I live in Albuquerque for crepe's sake.

Anyway I was starting to get a little stressed and as I usually do in these situations, started waffling and analyzing and finally had to beg for more information. "How will I know which one is which?" I asked in desperation.

To my surprise she replied with a question. "Are you the sort of person who can't be happy when others are unhappy or are you the kind of person who can?". I am not sure I entirely understood the question because I certainly did not know the answer until the image of my old friend Bobbie Sue, ever the give-it-to-me-straight realist, popped up and said a definitive "NO"!

Well that didn't help me decide which one was which. Bobbie Sue's apparition disappeared as quickly as it came, and I again was alone with the ogre and the crone to make my fated decision.

So because I couldn't decide I went for the obvious choice, and sat down in the fiberglass chute and held on to the rafters that appeared within while I looked up the crone for one last confirmation. She noticed my hesitation and asked, what's the matter honey, change your mind?" And I asked something like "No, just trying to make sure this is the right one"
"Well if you are the sort of person who can be happy without others and really doesn't care, go over there." It didn't take me long this time, I smiled at her and turned around and said "Oh then I am sure this is the right one!"

A moment later I was down the chute.

And was shocked to see where it ended up.

It ended up not in some fluffy place that I assumed heaven would be, as I assumed people like me would go to heaven, it was actually kind of like a Walmart. This was definitely my conception of hell. The chute spit me out in the middle of the isles, and no one seemed perturbed at all at me suddenly emerging from a porthole in the ceiling. It was as if I had just come down the escalator. It was of course, only MY personal hell. The rest of them were just enjoying a regular shopping day.

Upon closer inspection I realized this wasn't necessarily Walmart, and so not necessarily hell. It was more like a cross between a Micheal's Craft store, TJMAXX and a thrift store, which anyone who knows me well knows is definitely heaven! There was endless isles of crafts and kitsch, seriously discounted designer handbags and other inexpensive and brightly colored novelties that I so adore. There were also many kinds of people of various ages and backgrounds mulling around, everyday people that didn't look like angels. I was still a little perplexed at this heaven and so wandered aimlessly around, until discovering the pet section.

Truth be told I am a died in the wool animal nut. My husband has instated a "no new un-agreed upon animal" rule in the house. The "un-agreed upon" clause being because it keeps me from bringing any more roosters, sparrows, porcupines or god knows what in our humble home. Usually seeing animals in place like Walmart seeks to undo me, as I waffle between feeling the need to liberate the animal from it's cooperate confines and not wanting to support a puppy mill juggernaut.

Being heavenly discount thrift Walmart, unlike any other Walmarts that might have animals, this one had exclusively homeless and abandoned animals, the kind you didn't have to feel guilty about buying from a puppy mill, and all with big needful doe eyes that looked at you like you might be their salvation. There was puppies and kitties, a big old doleful golden retriever lab mix, little terriers and even a tiny day old kitten a women was feeding from a bottle. I guess I assumed this being heaven and all I could just take whatever I wanted, so I took all of them but the kitten who seemed to be adopted. All eight or so of them, Old Yeller, Benji, the shitzu,a breed I usually cannot stand, and all.

I walked right out the door of the store into the snowy alley on a bright blue day and lined them all up so I could evaluate my new brood. Just as I was looking into Yeller's loyal brown eyes the pet store attendant came spilling out.

He looked as if he had just been taking a smoke break and was definitely stoned and not too passionately told me I couldn't just take all the dogs. "Oh, ok, how about I just take a few of them?" He said something about paying, and I looked at them all lined up there, and struggled to decide which one...not that I had any money or anything, I didn't expect I would have to PAY for a puppy in heaven. So I had to leave them all there in the snow with the neglectful, though friendly, and very stoned attendant.

I was crushed. At this point I think I might have even gone back up the chute, sure I had in fact chosen wrong and this Crafty-Thrifty-Animal-Shelter was in fact Walmart and therefore hell.

So I jumped through the Ogre's hole, or maybe I just took the bus, but at any rate I was suddenly in what I expected to be the real authentic heaven.

And it most certainly was not. I arrived suddenly as if falling into a pile of clutter of toys and objects that looked like they belonged to a nursery school. Working part time in a preschool myself, I know how this clutter can almost instantaneously begin to accumulate the minute a toddler walks in the room. To be sure, the room was full of the sound of baby cries, and kids milled aimlessly around the rubble. I immediately began to try and pick this stuff up, try and make order of the chaos and attend to the crying and disorderly children.

As I was frantically doing this, forgetting entirely this was supposed to be my heaven, or my hell for that matter, I noticed that two my left the eyes of a henpecking bureaucracy of supervisors and secretaries looked at me through the class and clucked at me disapprovingly.

This was surely hell.

The moment I realized this I was instantly transported, not back to crafty Walmart, but to the real world. Awake.

I opened my eyes slowly still caught in the dream to the sounds of singer Hope Sandoval playing on the cd alarm clock. There was a soft brightness in the room and a hush outside that could only mean one thing, and sure enough the snow fell sweet and slow to the ground out the window.

Next to me, bed, the dogs, cat and husband slept soundly. Hope sang like an angel.

And I realized. This really WAS heaven.

Here in this house, with its own clutter and early crowing rooster, with the unpaid bills and the trashy magazines, but also the wide front porch, inviting kitchen, aforementioned creatures and plenty of love was simply...

heaven.