Birdy

myself and I go to sleep.
    I come into the dream with my eyes closed. I’m still there, not dead. I open my eyes and the cat is leaping and jumping in a circle. He’s screaming and there’s blood. One eye is closed and leaking fluid. The cat runs off with a final yowling scream. I look, and on the ground beside me is Perta!
    – Jesus! Now Birdy’s crying. What the hell can be the matter? What’s he crying about? Maybe everything. If he can cry, let him. It’s not so easy to do even when you want to.
    I close my eyes again. I want to end the dream. I must end it. The babies are alone; Perta is dead. I know she is dead not only from the way she is lying but because it is still my dream. I close my eyes and concentrate on ending the dream. Finally, it slides from under me, the dream stops and I stay asleep. I know that sleeping without dreaming is being dead.
     
    When I awake in the morning I can’t move. I’m surprised to find myself alive. I don’t want to cry out, I don’t want to move. My mind has lost control of my body. I feel totally separate. I watch as my mother comes in, talks to me, gets mad, then looks at me, shouts at me, and runs out of the room. I feel in another place.
    I’m watching all the things as if I’m watching the birds through binoculars. I watch the doctor. I watch them taking me to the hospital. I open or close my eyes according to how much I wantto see. I feel that I’ll never sleep again, never dream again, never move again. I don’t care too much. All I can do is watch; I’m enjoying watching. They lift my legs in the air. They lift my arms. They ask me questions. I don’t answer. I don’t want to answer. I’m not sure I can answer. Even my voice isn’t mine anymore. I’m between me and something else. Then I do sleep. It is the same kind of dead sleep.
     
    It’s as if there is no tie between before I go into that sleep and when I wake up. I wake up in the hospital. I’m hungry. I eat and I can move. I’m back with people. Perhaps the dream is gone forever. I don’t know how I feel about this. I’m like a small child; all there is, is me, feeding me, looking at things around, smelling things, tasting things, hearing things. I move my hand and watch it. It is all new.
    Three days later, they take me out of the hospital and I go home. I stay another week in my bed just enjoying being me. My father says he’s taking care of the birds. He tells me how many new birds he’s put into the breeding cages and what nests have been laid with how many eggs. I don’t care. All that is finished. I’m frightened; I don’t want to go back. He asks me what I’m going to do about the free-flying birds. He wants to lock them in the cage. He says he’s counted at least fifteen young males singing in the trees and there’re probably twice that many. That’s more than three hundred dollars flying around in the trees. I don’t want to talk about it.
    It’s the third day after I’ve started school when it starts again. I have all kinds of final examinations coming up and I can’t get myself to study for them. I’m enjoying riding my bicycle and watching people. I’ve never looked at people much before. They’re as interesting as birds if you really look. I go to a track meet and I’m all caught up watching people run, jump, throw things. Al wins the discus with a throw of a hundred and seventy-two feet. I have my binoculars with me and I can see all that’s happening with close eyes.
     
    It might be the watching with the binoculars that brings it back. In my sleep that night, I wake in the dream. I’m still on the groundunder the tree. I get onto my feet. I stretch my wings. I hop over to Perta. She is dead. Her neck is broken the way the little yellow female’s was; there’s nothing I can do. I do not know I’m in the dream. I am completely bird. I have no arms with which to lift her from the ground. Still, I’m not bird enough to accept Echen and leave her there. I want to move her, to take her to some place where the cat won’t be able to eat her. I look around; the cat is not in the yard. I can’t leave Perta on the ground like that. I fly up into the tree to see our babies. They’re scrunched down in the nest, frightened. I feed them and tell them I’ll be back. I’m feeling stretched out. I’m confused about time. I fly back to Perta.
    Then I see me coming out of the aviary. I’m walking across the yard toward me. I stand there on the ground as bird