Planet Literature

Zacharias Mbizo’s Dream Worlds

These dream worlds truly taste of summer. However, they do not necessarily reflect what we usually mean by „summer dreams“ in everyday life. Rather, they remind us that the overwhelming power of summer can, at times, be quite violent.

Thunderstorm

Complete, eerie silence. Then, almost a salvation, the first rumble of thunder. Another thunder, then one more, each like the echo of the first, yet bursting from its own maw, amplified by its own valley funnels. And each followed by its own army of flaming swords. Hissing, they cross their blades on the hell-black field of the sky.

A moment later, the hail begins to beat its drum of destruction. Whinnying, the wind blows its trombone, like a stallion ramming itself into a mare. In furious gallop he drives the cloud armies before him and dances through the fiery red rain, transforming it into an image of himself. He, the invisible one, is suddenly the only one visible. Gloomily his grimace glows through the torn sky.

But just as suddenly as it ignited, the concert of forces dies away again. Only the rain harp continues to weave its barely perceptible lament around the unborn grain for a while.

Foehn

In the evening you pause under the giant shadow of the mountain ridges. You see them staring at you with the implacability of a silhouette suddenly flooded with a torrent of blood.

You want to turn away, but an unchangeable destiny chains you to your place: you are Atlas, you have to carry the world, its burden weighs painfully on your head.

As your gaze becomes entangled in the latticework of the trees, you feel something alien invade you, a burning worm that winds inexorably through your veins. When you touch your forehead, you can sense the tip of its tail twitching.

At the same moment, you see the world through the eyes of the snake within you. With the lucidity of someone caught in a fever, you realise: your neighbour is inhabited by just such a snake, and his gaze is darkened by the same suspicious twitching under his forehead.

Immediately you understand what this means: it’s either him or you! Now that one has recognised the other, there is no place for both of you in this world.

When you stumble back into the house, all mirrors reflect the face of your neighbour. Following a twist of the worm in your veins, you smash all the glass you can grab.

Then you shoulder your bundle and disappear into the wilderness. With the determination of a martyr, you throw yourself into the arms of the wind brides who are already gathering ominously on the horizon.

Texts taken from: Zacharias Mbizo: Nocturnal Call. Dream Worlds. Literary Miniatures, Volume 2 (PDF, Open Access)

Images: Albert Bierstadt (1830 – 1902): Gathering Storm in the Valley (1891); Nordfriesland Museum Husum (Wikimedia); Alois Grundner: Evening Foehn Scenery (Pi­xabay)