Land of death and bad dreams

By TY PHILLIPS
tphillips@modbee.com

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I always have been fascinated by the dark nature of man, and I know I'm not alone. Death and mayhem intrigue many of us, which is why obituaries and crime stories always rank among the most read articles in the newspaper.

Simply, we love bad news. The only person I've heard be honest about it is George Carlin, who watches human tragedy like theater and readily admits that he roots for society to finish destroying itself.

"Let's say there's an earthquake in Armenia and they first say there might be 20,000 dead," Carlin has said. "Then the next day, they say just 6,000 dead. Aren't you a little disappointed? I sure the hell am! I was hoping it would be higher, actually."

You gotta love Carlin. Anyway, this column isn't about Carlin's fascination with death. Or mine. No, this is a short story about a nice boy trying to make his way through the Land of Death and Bad Dreams. That's what he calls it, at least.

You see, Murphy, my youngest, is by all accounts an incredibly sweet child. For example, whereas his older brother might bring me a dead gopher from the orchard, Murphy would bring me only flowers. Whereas Sky proudly displays blood from a wound, Murphy draws me happy pictures. You get the idea.

But lately, there's been an interesting contrast taking shape: Dark thoughts have been creeping into Murphy's mind. He's reluctant with details, but the truth comes out at bedtime. He fights going to sleep, afraid he'll have bad dreams. He's back to sleeping with a light on.

So, walking away from his room at night, I've begun wondering about Murphy's dreams. Today, listening to my two sons discuss Murphy's latest drawing, I got a lot closer to an understanding.

"Sky, this place is called the Land of Death and Bad Dreams," Murphy said. "Would you want to live there?"

"Uh, no, I don't think so," Sky said, looking over the drawing. "Why is it called that?"

"Because whatever you dream about happens here," Murphy said. "But only the bad stuff. It's a strange, strange world."

Sky nodded, pretended it was boring.

"I'm being serious, Sky. Every night that you live there, you have bad dreams. And then the next day the bad dreams come true."

"Well," Sky said, "if I lived there, I'd just dream about nice things."

Murphy shook his head violently, as if Sky was ruining everything.

"You can't do that, Sky. Even if you dream up nice things like the ocean and the beach, then the bad things of the ocean will happen like tsunamis and tidals and rogues."

"What if I dreamed of fluffy snow?" Sky said. "What could be bad about that?"

Murphy shook his head again.

"When you go ice skating here, avalanches happen," Murphy said. "There's an earthquake and the whole hill comes crashing down. And the snow covers up the pond where the people are skating."

"Cool," Sky said, examining the drawing further. "How come there's nothing here?"

"Oh, that's the terrible place," Murphy said. "You'll die if you live around this place because there is no air or oxygen there."

This went on for a while, and as it did, I began to get an idea why Murphy doesn't want to go to bed anymore. Yes, it's probably tough to sleep in the Land of Death and Bad Dreams. But man, isn't that the greatest title ever?

Bee staff writer Ty Phillips can be reached at tphillips@modbee.com or 874-5716.