Daydream in Blue

A Story by satansbebe

Reflections on Hollywood, Race, and Education

You ever notice people looking real righteous under the moonlight? I’m part Vampire though, so it’s in my nature ta’ suck in those glorious night rays. I don’t got no God, but Lordy-Lord that moonlight shakes me up. What they tell you about Hell, it’s all wrong. Kid you not, it’s all web of grim tales. I’ve met creatures in The Underworld so damn tragic, they turned a wooden heart like mine deep blue. You don’t know life ‘till you seen the absence of it. Sometimes I wish I could be one of those glorified Daywalkers, but my fate done been sealed before I even got born. I come from different lineages, one of which’s The Underworld Royalty. The other one’s that of The Sacred Alien. My father’s where I get the vampire in me; he’s what ya might call a noble Count. True story, went through initiation and everything. His father wanted him to be a Daywalker but he started wielding an electric guitar and next thing you know he’s walkin’ round like Jim Morrison. Real righteous fellow, though. Made even my grandfather proud to call him Junior, and he was a marine in the Korean War, for Christ Sake! This story’s not about me, though. It’s about the diabolical green; The Eye in the Sky.

I got all cynical when I got sentenced me to the guillotine. Couldn’t quite believe it when it happened, myself having learned to do that dastardly Daywalker dance; but you know how people are, so easily convinced by numbers. Makes me sick to tell you the truth. All that’s guna change, though. Those saucy b******s forgot, you can’t kill a vampire with some rigged contraption like that; chopping heads just makes ‘em more passionate. I’m not trying to be a vindictive little princess, though. The real culprit’s that wily mistress, History. If only she’d be a little more explicit, I’d probably be somewhere on an island right now drinking coconut milk. Alas, I’m doomed to a righteous path; God’s sure got a funny sense of humor. If you wanna get real technical, this War goes back thousands of years, maybe to those dinosaurs roaming the earth, or, you know, those miniscule life lusting organism from Mars Neil Degrasse Tyson always talks about. But for convenience sake, I’ll pin it to February 19, 1942, the day American President Franklin D. Roosevelt issued Executive Order No. 9066. Really sent me for a loop when I took the time to contemplate what this little document meant. It sent me for an even bigger loop when I realized how the Eye keeps it hid in plain sight.

I got my head chopped at University. No mercy, no pity, no remorse. What rotten institutions, those Universities. I was naïve enough to believe in God’s Kingdom until they decided numbers weigh more than blood. Call me old-fashioned, but the way those trolls wield pens like swords nauseates me. Those wannabe lunatics couldn’t even know what color the moon is on a Sunday evening at the theater. I wandered ‘round for years without my head like a hungry ghost. My classmates couldn’t understand it, most of ‘em anyways. I showed them Executive Order No. 9066 and they looked at me like I was Bugs Bunny. I told them The Beatles were a sham and Albert Einstein’s an American war hero but they just made goo-goo eyes and drooled about rocket ships and toy collections. I kept telling ‘em the League of The Eye locked up my grandmother and devastated the Holy Land of the Rising Sun, but they just nearly pissed themselves thinking about extravagance in land far, far away. They were all hypnotized by The Eye, and the one’s that weren’t hypnotized were too afraid of being punished.

The brilliance of it all gets me feelin’ Jekyllish, like those immigrant souls working in the back house of noodle bars. The funny thing ‘bout enchantment, it’ll turn a devil into an angel and Christ into Lucifer. That’s what I realized ‘bout the Eye. That’s what Light’s all about, realizing we’re modeled on rubbish. God’s a wet mop and a clean up on aisle 4 in Mcdonalds.

Forgive me mother for I let them sacrifice me.

I soiled the pure name

Yoko. The blood’s run dry

We helped them seal our fate

We smiled at the chance of Freedom

Even if it meant forsaking our land

Yoko doesn’t exist on paper

She only makes me smile in my head

She tells me to be happy when I’m blue

But she doesn’t exist.

Let me commit Seppuku for the love of it all

I beg you please on my hands and knees

but you just shake your head.

We used to swim in the waves

We used to laugh like animals

We used to dress up

We used to giggle and spin but now

I’m a wicked child.

The moon’s waxing now. Makes me just grin. I’m giddy. I can hear a voice telling me to stop smiling like an idiot but I’ve already gone overboard. It’s no use. I know just who I am. I remember now. It’s Hollywood Babylon. It’s sweet like honey pie. It’s Marilyn Manson taking out the trash next door. It’s David Lynch blessing your dreams. It’s Janis Joplin above your fireplace. It’s Rosemary’s Baby with Tim Curry at the Hollywood Cemetery. It’s Bob Saget at the Synagogue. It’s million dollar babies and Bat Mitzvahs. It’s being call a Chink when you're a Jap. It’s Persians in Beverly Hills. It’s sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll. It’s Elvis; no, it’s Chuck Berry. It’s not knowing your own name, then knowing it, then being told you’re wrong. It’s Al Pacino on the big screen and in your living room. When you can’t have an identity you have to make it up. Hollywood’s all about stories, remember? None of it’s real. It’s just a dream, and everyone knows dreams are just want you wish were true. Everyone knows about slavery. We know pyramids aren’t glorious; they’re just what happens when you use people to make monuments. But that’s the magic of society, you can convince others the righteous path’s paved in gold, not blood.

How do you serve a broken nation? How do you believe in God when your leaders don’t believe in you? I belong to no one, not even myself. President Nixon gave my grandparents $20,000 dollars and called it even. Suppose I should be grateful but doesn’t quite sit right when my birthright’s Star Wars on the big screen and yuppies eating Sushi de Cuisine. Chaos makes my blood boil; it’s the way I got born into this world. God was chaos and he stayed that way when He made me. Yoko’s not even my damn given name. Mother darling had forgotten all about that stuff by the time I was born. Real life tragedy, not knowing you own name. I had to make the damn thing up. My Japanese friend sorta gave it to me. The name’s sacred that way. It means ocean child, you know, on account of me liking the ocean; what it really means, though, only the ocean can say. Don’t got nothing to do with Yoko Ono! Or John Lennon! I love those two, though. They’re just like my parents, ‘cept, you know, my fathers not a Brit and my mother’s not a noble. Just a vampire and an alien, star-crossed and mad for love.

It’s a bright light night tonight. The dragon’s knock, knock, knocking. The moon’s full and showing heart. I guess she’s a vampire, too. It’s not a sinister ordeal. Like I said, Hell’s just a tale; it’s really quite pleasant and warm. It’s an oasis where the grim reaper dresses in a fine tux and mixes your cocktails. You’d think he were Johnny Depp if you was a real doll. Lord help me, I just love it when that moon’s blushing full monty. Makes me wanna hop in a Jaguar Convertible E-type; one with dark green exterior and dark mahogany leather interior. Boy oh Boy, that stuff’s sweet like Sunday chocolate gumdrop morning, don’t you think? I’d take myself for a spin and drive that thing straight to the moon. Can’t you just see it now? The alien vampire princess escapes this wretched life and rockets into deep space sporting a classic two-seater jaguar. What a vision. Sometimes reality is the strangest fantasy of all.