Woody Harrelson just shot me in yoga class. I was dreaming I had returned to my yoga class. The studio was dark and people were in class in the shadows working through a series of movements. I told myself I was only returning to retrieve purple pillowcases from my locker. I was wearing the wrong clothes. I walked into the studio and fell in line doing the poses. I was thinking, "I can't do this. I am wearing the wrong clothes." Yet I could.
My yoga instructor left the room and Woody Harrelson walked in, (as the teacher,) and he seemed normal at first, but then he shifted into political tirades a la Oliver Stone, just talking madness. I tried to speak to him rationally. He kept babbling insanity.
I was holding an art book, and in the back was this folded diagram in green and white expounding and building out as a "tree" chart on some art movements. Woody ripped it out of the book, claiming it was a book he had written, and he taped the diagram on the wall, still ranting and pointing at the paper and talking political conspiracy.
Savasana Corpse Pose
He came over to me while babbling at the others. He grabbed me and produced a gun and pressed it into my flesh. I kept talking to him as if he were normal, knowing he wasn't. When I realized his intent: to kill me, I started wrestling with him for the gun, but he was stronger than I was, and he shot me in the side. People pulled him off of me, and I sat trying to stay very still to assess how damaging the shot was. It took a long time for the EMT's to arrive. I thought, "If I am conscious this long, I won't die from this."
When we arrived at the hospital and they had me in the emergency room, I asked the doctor who was prepping me for surgery if I should say my final goodbyes to the world, meaning I wouldn't make it through the surgery. He had a funny look in his eye.
I awoke with a start. Now I'm sitting here with a pain in my ribs where the phantom bullet went in. I guess I should go back to sleep and see what happens next.
*The title refers to an Ultimate Spinach song entitled, "Ballad of the Hip Death Goddess." It's on YouTube. I tried embedding it, (with my phantom bullet pain still hurting,) and it kept failing, so foo, yanno? Go look it up.
Labels: andy warhol, dcblogs, death, gun, The Washington Post, woody harrelson, yoga