Burt Ramble

Burt walked out of the office into the hall where the bathrooms are. He felt nervous but didn’t know why. A feeling had started to creep over him as the day began and by now it was all over him. The feeling was strange and familiar. Despair, relief, the need to cry and the over powering urge to vomit had climbed their way up his back and were sitting upon his head and shoulders now as he was leaving for lunch.  

In the hall there was a well dressed black kid at the snack machine; he was in a black suit, black tie and nice shiny black dress shoes.

‘I never saw that guy before, must be the new intern’ Burt thought, as he entered the men’s room.

Burt headed to the handicap stall, pushed on the door, it was locked.

“Occupied”, said the occupant grunting.

The bathroom door opened behind Burt. It was the well dressed black kid. His shoes clapped on the floor as he headed to the urinal closest to the entrance. Burt nodded to him politely and entered a vacant stall and locked the door. He pulled an envelope from his back pocket, unbuckled his belt and trousers letting them drop to his ankles, the belt buckle clanking as it hit the floor. He sat down to do his business.

As he opened the envelope the toilet in the handicap stall flushed. Burt could hear the jingling of loose change or keys and the zipping of his neighbor’s fly.  Burt looked at the contents of the envelope and smiled.

The Deep voice from the handicap stall said “Hey Burt, so what are you going to do with all that money?” The handicap stall door slammed open. Burt could hear the well dressed black kid’s shoes clap against the tiles of the bathroom floor, walking toward him.

“What money? Hey, do you mind. I’m trying to take a s**t in peace!” Burt yelled. The horrible feeling on top of Burt began to enter his body forcefully in the form of an excruciating migraine; he felt the gravity of a black hole inside his chest sucking the vile feeling and  intuition, he had been carrying, from his shoulders and head into his soul and beneath it. A vacuum of pain, involved with Burt’s birth, birthed a thought into Burt’s fracturing mind. ‘There is no pain in nonexistence’, the epiphany brought with it a slim promising moment. He had no idea about what was happening, only that it was bad and in some way his fault.

“You’re about to s**t mother f****r” boomed the deep voice exiting the handicapped stall.

Burt’s stall door crashed open with a loud kick. Time slowed, the stall door lock burst into metal and wood shrapnel. As the sharp speeding projectiles slowly trekked toward Burt’s face he began to scream. Loud and unnaturally low his screams were cut short by the only thing in the universe that had maintained the laws of space and time, a very large red man and his fist.   

 Burt tried to wake, as if struggling to be free from a horrible rim sleep nightmare; he can’t move his body or open his eyes. Panic crept up slow at first but struck with the speed of a cobra when his efforts went unrewarded. He began to hear a faint voice. Burt slowly realized that he was awake, tied to a chair, blindfolded, and gagged. He struggled to no avail. The painful anxiety he felt before was gone. But the feeling that a black hole had taken up residence in the pit of his soul was present and growing. His heart empty or AWAL, either way a dark sucking void lived now in the center of his chest.

“Mr. Ramble, can you hear me Mr. Ramble?” Burt heard the voice of an old man speaking to him. “We are going to remove your gag very soon, please be calm while I explain the situation to you”, toned the voice of the old man, who continued speaking.

 “You have been brought here because you are a very special person. Words upon the blowing wind have, in their wisdom, whispered into my ear your reason for being. A great liberating warrior, the chief of the fire nation came to me burning bright in my vision of the battles that initiate your transformation, how to prepare you to survive them, and the places you must enter in them. I was visited by sages from yonder stream and from the stone nation with wisdom and visions; key to your survival in these coming trials .Grandmother earth has taught me the proper method of nurturing which will unlock the divine power within you needed on your quest, she is wisest in the ways of nurturing. Grandfather Sky has blessed me in my task of preparing you for yours. I have seen deep into the seven chambered furnace of love and spoken to the angel of your heart, you are the one.  You are the one, the only one who can fulfill this task and save yourself and all of your brothers and sisters.  This is all I can tell you, the rest you must be shown.”

“Hey Burt, you remember me”?

Burt knew that voice to be the Indian who knocked him out earlier. Burt could feel a cold hand on the back of his neck untying his gag. The gag fell.

“I remember that you’re the scum f**k whose going to prison for assault and kidnapping.” Burt said trying not to sound afraid.

“I understand your feelings of anger Burt. I was just as angry when I was brought in, but in a few days you will be grateful. My name is Murdock Running Deer, and this is Wallace Black Elk” He removed Burt’s blindfold, revealing an old Indian dressed like a cowboy sitting at a picnic table.

“I don’t give a f**k who you are or who he is, just let me go”! Burt insisted.

“We will let you go very soon Mr. Ramble”, nodded Black Elk. “But first, we eat.”

“I’m sorry I hit you Burt, though you may not realize it but I’ve owed you one for some time now. I need you to have a look around Burt, we’re in the middle of the wilderness “Murdock said, pointing panoramically.

Burt looked around; in front of him was a small grouping of evergreen trees and the picnic table where the old man sat warmed by a small fire between the table and the trees. He looked to the left, to the right and behind himself to see that he was on top of a mountain. He looked at Murdock, a large and tall physically fit looking middle aged man. Then he saw the black kid approaching from behind the trees still dressed in a suite but now in hiking boots. He was carrying firewood.  

 “Can I untie you now Burt?” asked Murdock

Burt knew he’d never get away by running and if he did he would probably die out here given his physical condition, being a fat over the hill smoker with no outdoor survival skills. He’d have to hold out for a better opportunity to escape. Best to gain their trust now he thought and escape later. “Untie me, I won’t run” Burt submitted. 

Murdock untied Burt and invited him to sit at the picnic table along with the well dressed black kid and Black Elk.

Black Elk began to speak gazing deep into Burt’s lost grey eyes. “I’ve heard you, Mr. Ramble, speak of entitlement. I’ve wondered about entitlement and I’ve come to understand that there are two things that we are entitled to. One is birth. The other is death. There is an interesting thing about becoming life, Mr. Ramble, it only happened once. All life after that first birth comes from life married to life. We are all one life Mr. Ramble, but this life that we are has experienced many little deaths. Your death will be as little a death as that of a blade of grass”.

Fear exploded through Burt’s veins. “Please don’t kill me. Please I’ll do whatever you say”, he begged leaning forward bowing his head and locking his hands together, fingers clinched holding on for dear life.

“We are not going to kill you Burt” interrupted Murdock, putting his hand on Burt’s shoulder softly. This made Burt feel calm, unafraid and loved and he wondered why for a moment. Then his attention was pulled back to Black Elk.

Black Elk continued, “The little deaths we all experience, from the moment of birth onward, grow until final death. Our little life becomes our personal nonexistence. The big life, whose mother and father are one and none, is coming to a crossroad. One path leads comfortably to final death. On this path life itself will pass into nonexistence. This is the path easiest to follow for it is paved with familiarity, though paved well it is winding and ends abruptly around a final blind curve.

The other path is an old one - rough and overgrown with fear and darkness. This path has been scarcely traveled in recent times therefore it has been naturally reclaimed by the weeds, briers and forgotten demons of life’s lost history. This path leads to hope. It is our little lives who must choose which path our mother will ride.”

Black Elk went silent and turned to look at the fire. Murdock walked to the edge of the mountain and sat cross-legged facing away from Burt and the rest, looking out over the clouds. The well dressed black kid was tending the fire in quiet contemplation.

Burt becoming more aware of his surroundings began to notice that the air carried a strange cozy comfort, and the light of the noon sun, un-obscured by trees or clouds, was unnaturally mild in color, like dull yellow-orange autumn foliage just before floating softly in death to the cool forest floor. There was no wind, no birds, no sound but the crackling and tending to of the fire.

“Ok, so you want me to recycle? I have a hard time believing that’s why you brought me here. What do you want from me? Show me what you need to show me so I can go home!” Burt said raising his voice incrementally in frustration. “I’m not buying your bullshit”! , said Burt, now almost yelling in panic.

There was no reply. Not even a reactionary movement. Neither from his captors nor from any beasts of nature, not even an echo, followed his outburst. He got up and screamed “listen to me”! Only silence and stillness in reply, the fire though healthy and burning became silent as well. The movements of the well dressed black kid, as he began preparing what appeared to be food, were the only sounds now. It was as if the entire world had stopped participating in Burt’s existence, all things in nature with the exceptions of a soundless fire and its mute tender.  

Burt moved to explore his wide open prison. He began rushing around looking for a way to get down from the impossible towering reformatory which confused him so. He found himself on the far side of the trees revealing bald stone grey mountaintop overlooking motionless clouds. No safe path of escape to be found only steep downward grades obscured by white fog. He began to cry.

“The white clouds of darkness”, said a soft effeminate voice.

Burt turned to see the speaker. He saw no one.

“The truth is, Mr. Ramble, the hidden world is, the world as it is, only unexplored. You are here to explore, Mr. Ramble, the world behind the white clouds of darkness. Follow me” whispered the wind.

 The well dressed black kid stepped from the wood and motioned for Burt to follow. They walked to the edge and stopped for a moment. The well dressed black kid then grabbed Burt firmly around the waist and forced him over the edge, falling together through white clouds, forgotten desire, and memories of death and worse, memories of meaninglessness realized in broken hearted regret. Burning with immense windless speed, penetrating the mystery in conjoined discomfort, they fell into the pit. Burt tried to scream but he had no voice. He tried to be free from the hold of the youthful warden, but found that he had no power. The strangeness of this happening devoured Burt’s sensibility. He felt the incredible magnitude of pace, but no physical symptoms of their apparent decent. No sound at all, no gust blowing his hair, he could see nothing, yet he knew he was at maximum velocity falling in the grip of his captor, the last remnant of physics. Burt closed and reopened his eyes rapidly and repeatedly. Trying to wake up from this freakish dream, but only awakening to it every moment more and more intensely, eventually he stopped blinking but could no longer discern if his eyes where open or closed. All sensation melted away as his cognitive function shutdown and Burt Ramble was born, in reverse, to nothingness. They arrived at the end of existence only to discover finality is a cruel illusion, a perfect reflection of all that is real.

The well dressed black kid released Burt and the pitch black dissolved revealing the world.

Burt, trembling, eyes in empty gaze, whispered, “What was that? What just happened?” Raising his voice slightly he questioned the stone beneath his feet, “What the f**k is happening?”

“Don’t worry my friend, you will understand soon enough” said Murdock soothingly, as he appeared from behind the trees, “But now we eat”.

Burt looked around confused and amazed. Having landed on the exact spot from which he had fallen, Burt stood still momentarily recalling the experience. As he fell, nearly an infinite number of emotions and strangely unique truths bombarded his being continually until the fall dissolved into nonbeing. However as Burt’s nonbeing scattered, giving way to the world as it now appears to him, he was left with only a vague intuition equivalent to having, at least, touched every volume in the Library of Babel.

Lunch is served

While everyone was having lunch, Murdock, between bites, professed. “Black Elk has had visions, Burt, of the future and of you.”

“Wallace Black Elk is dead, I don’t know who this guy is but unless he is a zombie or this is the afterlife, he is not Wallace Black Elk,” interrupted Burt.

“Good, Burt” said Black Elk, “but what you fail to realize is that there is no afterlife, I am Wallace Black Elk free from the cocoon of the apparent world. I am, we are, your spirit guides.”

“So, I’m dead? Or I’m not dead? What?” chuckled Burt, mockingly.

  “No, you’re not dead Burt,” said Murdock, “we have brought you into the real world.”

“Okay, I’m here in the real world, now what? I’m listening, but somehow I have a hard time believing that this is the real world. This is a dream, maybe I’m in a coma, but in the real world, I and mute boy over there would have died at the point of impact when we went over the edge of that cliff!” Burt began raising his voice laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

“But no! There was no impact and really I’m not even sure that whatever that was could even be called a fall. I neither felt nor heard the wind. Once through the clouds I saw nothing, and time simultaneously stood still and accelerated, and all indication of the world evaporated. Whatever this place is, it is not the real world! And when the nothing that engulfed our fall…” Burt, now standing, and yell hysterically, “dissolved away, I felt as if, during my absence of being, I’d experienced all possibility! How is this real? This place is not even remotely possible!”

Murdock smiling laughs, “Very well Burt now that you’ve got that off your chest, sit eat, and listen”.

Everyone was smiling at Burt in comforting friendly way. This helped Burt calm down. He did as Murdock suggested and sat.  His face was hot, and his heart racing. He noticed that his surroundings had not changed, it was like a movie set, permanently noon. He didn’t know how long he had been there but he did know that it was long enough to have noticed some change in the position of the sun. There was no such change.

Murdock cleared his throat, “The world, Burt, is as it seems, and more. The world you call real is real but it is not all that is real. We are aspects of the real which you cannot fully perceive, myself, Wallace Black Elk and the well dressed black kid are more specifically living extensions of your consciousness, connected to the greater life of the universe.”

Burt listened as he ate his stew. He had decided to just go with the flow at this point, realizing he had no choice in the matter. The stew was tasteless with unidentifiable chunks of soft root, and maybe mushrooms. The food satisfied warming Burt’s core while increasing his self-awareness somehow and enhancing his calm.

Murdock’s voice slowly fading from Burt’s consciousness, continued. “We are here to show you what life is…” Murdock’s words melted away, their void filled by Black Elk’s Drum and song. Burt watched Murdock’s mouth as it continued to exercise, oblivious to the futility of its efforts. A soft bubble engulfed Black Elk as he drummed and sang.  The sphere of vibrating light lifted Black Elk up and to the left, leaving a negative sphere in its place. Burt was the only one to notice these strange happenings. Murdock’s mouth moved soundlessly as he gazed at Burt, and the well dressed black kid, eating head down, took no apparent notice.

The heartbeat of the universe from Black Elk’s pounding drum and vessel of light, vibrating its mantra mesmerizing and compelling spoke to Burt. “Thump thump, thump thump, dance in your heart with love, a memory, thump thump, thump thump.”  

A woman dressed in fair skin emerged from the void sphere. Burt’s eyes fixated and astounded clung to her slightest move as she stepped into full view.

“Thump thump, thump thump, search your heart and tell me, where has love gone, thump thump, thump thump?” The universal drumming heart gave voice.

Burt looked into her eyes they seemed to say, “I am the world, do you love me in my beauty?” He replied, “I do.”

She reached out to touch Burt’s hand.

“Thump thump, thump thump” Sang the drum. Black Elk sang along in a language unidentifiable to Burt. Though the words seemed to vibrate meaningfully, the message, “Why has love forsaken thee? Because you have forsaken love. When will love come back to thee? When you come back to love.”

As she made contact, Burt’s senses exploded, all objects began to glow brighter and brighter each with its unique color, texture and temperature. The separate in their glowing growth merged becoming the inseparable. The world had been transformed into pure white light. The drumming stopped, all was silent. Maybe it was for a moment or maybe a million years. Burt was one with the light and in that time utterly content. There was a loud popping sound, and then it was all gone. He was again sitting at the picnic table, Black Elk was eating, no sign of a drum. The well dressed black kid had not budged, and as if nothing had happened, Murdock preached on.

“…here to show you what life needs you to know so that she may survive you and you may survive her. This world is our mother, she gives birth to all life, but she does not control her children, and can only delicately communicate with us. We have brought you here to communicate with her.”

“Wait a minute; did any of you just see that?” Burt calmly interrupted.

 Black Elk smiled at Burt then turned to Murdock and said, “It has begun, we must let him go now.”

“Tell me, what happened after that, did you wake up?” asked Dr. Freud, while puffing his pipe.

Burt looked over to see Sigmund Freud looking back at him through a plume of grey smoke. Suppressing panic and confusion, Burt decided to play along. Again he realized that he really had no choice in the matter. Although Burt was not sure what the Doctor was asking about, he began speaking.

“It’s like remembering a dream that had not yet happened with perfect clarity. I stood and walked onto the path. Dirt and grass below my feet, below that a mist of clouds and the fall of eternal return. I walk slowly, in a daze, into the dark canopy of evergreens an open mouth of untold nature. The light of high noon, as mellow and plastic as it was, shriveled dimmer and dimmer until the forest closed behind me. I am a confused morsel and not more.  The wind at my back forced my body down the hollow throat of trees. Is my fate digestion in the belly of the beast, or perhaps to be nurtured in the womb of the mother? I knew that there must be some detail in these trees, but I could not find any. I knew that there must be a sky beyond the umbrella of green but no evidence existed. A vague fuzzy reconstruction of reality like a strange muddy dream, the world I walked meant nothing to me. I felt that I would soon find out what I meant to it.

Something compelled me to sit, and I did. I longed for warm sunshine and it appeared I wished to be back in the real world and nothing happened.

A voice or some force of persuasion beckoned me to stillness, to silence and to peace, winning over my actions and intentions. Following the suggestion of this, perhaps divine inclination, this power beyond my observation, I fell into comfort, mindful of all in judgment of none.

If time must pass, it did pass, although without petitioning me for awareness.”

“That is very interesting Burt. Tell me how old were you when you first wanted to make love to your mother”? queried Sigmund as he broke apart like glass and slowly fell to the floor, leaving sharp shards of his being in a neat pile. However, the pile of Freud continued speaking. “Please continue, as you were saying.”

Burt felt his lips moving and heard words coming out of his mouth though he had no control over what was actually being said.

“I realized that I need to get out more when normal anxiety-free conversation with an actual person became one of my most fantastic and apparently unrealistic fantasies. I have normal fantasies still, of course, about almost every woman that crosses my path but they aren't as fantastic as they used to be. I wonder if hookers charge less if you just want to talk?” 

The world began swirling, the furniture, books, sharp bits of Sigmund Freud, Burt and an apparition that had spontaneously appeared who look identical to Woody Allen, all spiraling together. The apparition seemed confused. Burt wondered if it was actually Woody Allen. Maybe somehow Woody was having as weird a day as Burt. As the swirling reality clinched tighter and a black hole formed in the center and at a moderate pace all the world was sucked into non being. Burt recognized this feeling which he had felt when falling with the well dressed back kid earlier, and was not as worried as the apparition of Woody Allen appeared to be. Eventually there was only black nothing complete void a vacuum of space.