The Knot Hue

Damn wood! Damn wood! I cannot deal with this damned wood! I am trapped. I am bound as surely as if I was shackled in a dungeon or strapped to a gurney in a mental institution, where I may just end up. It is my trimboard near my bed. It has me trapped in between reality and fantasy in a way that I cannot comprehend. I hope you will bear with me as I relate the details of this sad, sad, story. 1

As I lie in bed, there is a wall nearby with a beautifully stained trimboard. For some reason, it is the first thing I see every morning when I awaken. I get the strangest reactions when I tell my friends that every morning I awaken to wood. Apparently, that doesn't happen to anyone else. 2

But, this is not just any wood. There is a head the size of a golf ball, the discoloration of a knot, formed in the wood, at the top. This head of knot is very hard. I have tapped it with a hammer and it has made a thudding noise. This head is a silhouette of a woman face to. There is nothing remarkable about the figure, except for the hue. The hue of this knot is deep, vibrant, and haunting. It is sublime. My eyes get lost in this hue. It is how I awaken every morning. Try as I might to sleep on the other side, I always awaken to wood. 3

At odd times of the day I have found myself daydreaming that I was lying in my bed gazing at the knot. I cannot say why. It is completely unremarkable except for the hue. Lately, I have seen the knot more and more often. I have considered that I am losing my sanity. I decided to try to occupy my mind with other things. 4

The perfect thing, or so I thought, would be the company of a woman. How better to forget the image of color in wood than to share the wonders of life with a charming lady. Fortunately, I found such a lady straight away. She was beautiful, brilliant, funny, her heart was pure as gold, and her father was the CEO of a large banking and investing firm. She was magnificent. I thought I was cured. I had such fun with her, until one day I noticed a mole on her neck. It was small and unobtrusive. It certainly was not a blemish upon her good looks, but it fascinated me just the same. 5

I only stared at it for a few seconds, when it seemed to explode and envelope her entire face. Suddenly, her entire face was the color of the mole, which was the color of the knot hue! I looked away and saw her hands. They were the knot hue as well! Once I realized that this woman was the knot hue, I was unable to speak to her, save monosyllabic grunts. She became increasingly annoyed with me until she wanted nothing more to do with me. It was not my fault. I could not be around her. She became something I could not deal with. She was the knot hue!6

I searched my mind for the meaning of this. Why was this permeating my thoughts? Have I done something so kharmically wrong that I am to be punished this way? I ran home and covered the knot with duct tape. I cursed it and vowed I would not be held in its spell. I forced myself to sleep facing away from that wall. For a few days, I was better. I seemed to function normally, once I no longer woke up to wood. 7

I met another fabulous woman at a blue house. Again, I had a wonderful time getting to know her. She was beautiful. She had long dirty blonde hair which in she had a few tiny braids that were dyed neon colors. She was wider than most women side to side, but very thin front to back. She was proportionally large breasted, even for a wide woman, but it was offset by the fact that her rear end seemed to protrude ever so slightly out and up. The effect was such that I felt like a grand-prix racer studying the layout for the next race. What was most intriguing was her mannerisms. So free and easy. She belonged in this world. I again thought I was cured. 8

We went bowling at the candlepin lanes in Westbrook. We had a great time, until she was sitting at the table laughing and smiling. There was a pine wall behind her. As she smiled at me I realized something. Something very interesting. Her face made the exact silhouete on that wall as the knot made in the trim board next to my bed. I was actually very pleased with this. It made her even more dear to me. She must have noticed me staring at her. She seemed excited and began to speak fast about nothing and everything. Her breath seemed to be visible. As she spoke something began to happen. Her words became darker and darker. It was like they were smoke or fog. Soon there was nothing visible between us but a cloud of smoke. The smoke was almost black. I yelled at her to be quiet!9

She stopped immediately. The smoke cleared. My worst fears were realized. She also was the knot hue! Her entire complexion had changed from being a wonderful woman to being the knot hue! Then it hit me. What if every woman would eventually be the knot hue? I could not bear such a thought. The color would haunt me forever? Not just my dreams but in my waking life as well? 10

I stopped what I was doing and ran home. I grabbed a sawzall, threw my bed to one side and ripped at the duct tape. The knot was gone. It had disappeared. I looked again. It was still not there. I put my hands on my hips, tilted my head back, and blew a sigh. Halfway through the sigh I became paralyzed. There superimposed on the ceiling was the knot hue. It did not have the shape of the knot anymore. It was simply an amorphous blotch of color. I looked out the window. There it was again. The house next door was the knot hue. The Floor was the knot hue. Everything was the knot hue!11

So here I sit, writing this tale on my knot hue paper. The sad, sad tale of everything that is knot hue. Everything, and I mean everything, is knot hue. I dare not tell a soul for fear they will lock me up. I should not be seeing this! I should not be saying this! But, alas, I am ever the pragmatic one. I will simply accept that I live in a universe that is knot hue. I will survive.12