The Bosch Addendum

This story has its genesis in one of many Twitter “salon” discussions carried on between myself, Tom Dark (@TomDark9), and a fair number of other followers who got sucked into the exchange.  The subject was dream analysis – Tom and I had been exchanging dream stories for a few days – and the evolution of myths and folklore from common dream symbolism found in just about every culture.  Tom had initially challenged me to to re-write the “Garden of Eden” story in a more “believable” manner (i.e., one not so willfully ignorant of geography), but as the dream debates extended, I began to consider the possibility of fusing the two into a Tweetplay.  With that Friday night’s suggestion queue empty, I decided to give it a go.

And, for what it’s worth, this is the first Tweetplay where I really wish I had handled the ending differently.  I now realize that the ending you see below is the weakest of the four paths I could have taken.  Oh well, c’est la vie!

Tonight’s tale is a mental journey through the strange lands of the imagination in search of the truths of the past, and a place called “Eden.” I call this one: “The Bosch Addendum.”


“I can see you now,” said the doctor, waving me into his office. “What seems to be the problem?”

“I’m not sure, doc,” I said, “I feel kinda confused lately. Like I’ve been punched in the face.”

“Have a seat over there, and tell me all about it,” he said, gesturing at a rather garish sofa.

“Well,” I said, “It all started with this strange dream where I was having a crooked breakfast.”

“Suddenly, this huge man came in with an incredibly pissed off, yet well dressed, monkey.”

‘YOU RUINED IT,’ screamed the monkey. ‘You had it all and you BLEW IT!’

‘Mr. Sprinkles is NOT amused!’, he bellowed, ‘And he demands that you fix this!’

‘Fix what?’ I stammered, wary of the pistol he waved beneath my nose.

‘EDEN!’ he roared. ‘Thanks to you stupid humans, the fires have destroyed it!’

‘But,’ I stammered, “What can I do about that? I’m just one man!’

‘You must travel to the land of dreams,’ he said, ‘and put the future back on its path!’

‘But HOW?’ I asked again. ‘Rocco here will send you,” he said, gesturing at the huge man.

The last thing I saw was Rocco’s rather large fist.

“When I woke up, I was in the middle of a vast desert, with nothing in sight for miles.”

“There were two trees standing, almost as if they were signposts for something.”

“The whisper of wind turned into a sudden rush of sound as an impossible train appeared.”

“A jackelope stepped off the train and spoke, ‘You must be the one I’m supposed to pick up.

“He shoved me into the train and, without a further word, sent us roaring across the desert.”

“We soon arrived at a temple carved into a mountain, and the jackelope tossed me off the train.”

“A Jeroba emerged. ‘You’re not quite there yet, human,’ he said, “Step into the ballon now.’

‘Where are we going,’ I asked. ‘Up,’ said the Jeroba, ‘Up and eastward to the monastery.”

“It was a small monastery, and it appeared deserted at first.”

“A Clouded Leopard appeared. ‘You will pause here, human,’ he said, ‘The next dream is near.’

‘Is this all a dream, then?’ I asked. The leopard licked his lips. ‘Of course,’ he said…

‘…Each stage of the journey takes you deeper into your dreams; closer to your truth.’

‘Come now,’ he continued, ‘Your ship sails for the turtle.’ h

“This part of the dream was the scariest. The ship sailed through sandstorms.”

“Passing dangerously close to a pair of raging Rain Dragons!”

“Eventually, we reached an island shrouded in mist, and mystery.”

“Where the World Turtle awaited patiently.”

‘Welcome,’ said the Turtle, ‘I imagine you have many questions?’

“I nodded dumbly. ‘Ages ago,’ he began, ‘I brought this world here upon my back…’

‘With the help of the other Gods, I created you humans to act as caretakers…’

‘I placed this world in your hands, and gave you dreams to steer its evolution through time…’

‘As time passed, however, you invented your own dreams, and fled the comfort of my grace…’

‘Over time, you began to make a mess of things. Poisoning the land and the air…’

‘And eventually… eventually, you even began killing each other…’

‘Because of this, I am leaving you to suffer the fate you, yourselves, have created. ‘

‘But what will happen to us!’ I cried. ‘You’ll die,’ he said gently.

‘But a new mother will emerge, and the cycle of dreams will start again.’

The doctor cleared his throat, interrupting my story. “It’s seems we’ve run out of time.”

“But I’m not finished!” I said. “I haven’t told you about the mother of the bear!”

“There’s no need,” said Dr. Bosch. “It’s time for you to wake up now.”