Dream On: Óneiroi
©Parker G. Reid September 2022
Bear up Old Heart!
You’ve borne worse —
Far worse — that Day
When the Cyclops — man mountain —
Bolted your Hardy Comrades down.
But Hold fast —
Nobody but your Cunning
Pulled you through the Monster’s Cave
You thought would be your Death —
Odysseus — Book 20: 20–25 Fagles Translation
I have a coterie of fools and sages I must deal with Penelope. I am away to find Tiresias.
How long will you be away Sire?
Not a fortnight my love yet I know not. I learned entry from the sorceress Circe. I believe she cajoled me as a fool my love. I will drink the honeyed milk at the River Styx and await my avail.
Charon will come to assist my love.
Perhaps I will see the old ferryman. Perhaps not. Anon Wife.
No King No it is not time for you — the Seer Tiresias speaks from the grave portal. This is not your homecoming. Go.
Tiresias. I beseech you. I must have a word. Your foresight. Your sorrow. I beseech you. The flames are hard at my heels Lord. Let me in.
That is not a grave concern to me Odysseus. What nightime travail is this King of Ithaca? I have many burdens and as yet — young King — I am blind. I see you not.
You must see me with your mind Seer. I beseech you Sage of the Underworld. Give me a tonic. Quench this thirst. I have questions that must be answered only by you.
That is much grave beseechment young King. What of Laertes? Your father? Is he a grave man now?
My father offers no succor. He has set to pasture. Let me in Seer.
Does Penelope rest beside you?
She does Seer. She does.
And have you left her in astral travel?
Of course. You know this. Let me in.
Do I vex you King?
You do Lord. You do. I am beleaguered. I will prevail to endure your riposte. Do what you will. Let me in.
Do your feet burn Odysseus?
They depart like air. I feel them not.
Very well. I will take up your questions. Come in.
Tiresias. Honorable Soothsayer. Odysseus bows to the old Seer.
Have a seat Odysseus. Prevail with flattery no more. It sickens me. Put your feet in that basin of water.
Tiresias Honorable Sage. I am beset by many men. The Phonecians —
Your words rush like water over me. Take more time.
Lord the Phonecians in particular tax and grieve me. Suitors —Suitors — I will kill them all —they have arranged to conspire in my absence. Wicked treachery. I am prone to murder them all. All of them. I pull back from this wickedness. Penelope says I must. I must not kill them she says and I desire this Soothsayer to earn my wife. I long for a pure purchase on my wife, my homeland Ithaca. It is new avail for me. I have grown since my youth. I am not your young King.
Pure purchase? Your wife? You eschew violence King? You? You are grown indeed. I see this. I scarce know you you are so changed. It is a sum good. I hear this in the timbre of your voice. The smoothness of your movements. Your beseechment. You wail now Odysseus of wisdom. Let me hear this wail. What does Laertes offer?
My father seeks pasture Tiresias. I told you. He offers nothing. I understand this. I bother him not. I prevail upon you.
What is your question son?
I wish to know how to manage so many fools and so many sages without bloodshed Sire. Each competes for my vengeful hand like an eager bride.
Now what of your woman Odysseus? What does she offer? You know I know the ways of a woman. Does she sleep beside you now?
She does Seer. She sleeps at my side. Penelope is not one of my concerns in this dimension Seer. I will speak of her not here in the Underworld. I come to heal. Pray leave her be.
