Almost a year ago I dreamt of a talking swan! I laugh every time I think about this dream, and yet while I was asleep it had felt so profoundly philosophical (maybe it is and conscious me does not have the maturity required to understand that). Be that as it may this is something that has to be shared.
I have a “friend who is a boy” (I am really uncertain about the status of our relationship), let’s call him Scott. He is an aspiring singer who has recently caught a big break. His debut album was recently released and has become somewhat popular. Hence his manager organizes a concert, hoping that with the success of this show Scott will be able to firmly plant his feet in the music industry (I have NO idea whatsoever how the music industry works, I know).
So the concert begins, it is progressing perfectly. The crowd absolutely loves him. I am strangely standing at the back but that provides me a vantage point to observe something horrible.
A man shoots another. I see the entire thing. How they have an altercation, one pushes another back with the palm of his hands, yells something aggressively, the other suddenly loses his temper and pulls out a gun. Then without warning, he fires it.
Some grab the gun-wielder from behind and disarm him, others carry the bleeding man away. What follows next is absolute chaos.
The concert obviously gets cancelled midway, the performers are ushered out of the stage and back to their vans or dressing rooms or wherever. I make my way back to the dressing room to visit Scott. I suddenly have a feeling of déjà vu. I have seen this before. Flashes of memory appear and disappear before my eyes and I know that Scott’s career is over, unless he pays heed to my warnings and acts accordingly. In fact I don’t know if I can save him even if he does listen to me. All I know is that I want to aid him.
I arrive to see him sitting all alone, almost trembling. I try to comfort him but I know the cops will soon arrive and if he does not handle it well, he is done (I know this makes no sense). And soon they do. Two police officers, one male and one female, begin to question him regarding the shooting. Ridiculous questions really such as, if he was somehow involved in the incident or if he had any previous idea about what would occur or if he knew the shooter and the victim (perhaps these two represented both the authority and the media).
Suddenly we hear a rustling sound behind us and we all turn around to see a white figure fast approaching us. I know what it is, but that does not stop me from being shocked.
What materializes before our eyes is a white swan, glowing somehow in the dark. It almost crashes in front of our feet and that is when we realize she is bleeding. Her stomach and the underside of her wings are completely crimson. She looks pained, there are tears falling from her eyes.
“Please”, she manages to say. “Help me. I’ve been shot.”, she pleads with the cops.
No one is phased by the fact that a swan can speak. It is perfectly normal.
They look at her rather nonchalantly. “Who the hell shot you?”, the woman asks.
“A man, I don’t know his name. Please make the bleeding stop.”, the swan begs again. Her imploring is almost unbearable to me.
“Well it’s your fault for roaming around among people. What the fuck were you thinking?”, the man responds this time.
“I’m afraid we’re gonna have to arrest you”, the female officer says, completely indifferent, and cuffs the swan (yes! She cuffed the wings!).
I am appalled by this and I try to protest but the cops shut me up saying it’s none of my business. I look to Scott for help but he appears to be too immersed in his own problems to care. But I know this swan has to live. Not only do I pity the bird but somehow I know this bird can save Scott’s career. I remember now that I failed to save her before, and Scott lost everything. I have been given a second chance.
The officers escort the swan despite her cries of anguish, and they instruct Scott to go the precinct the next morning.
“We have to save the swan”, I tell Scott once the cops leave.
“I’m a little preoccupied San”, he looks at me incredulously. How could I even care and moreover expect HIM to??
“Don’t you get it? That swan is important!”
“I have to think about my career! I don’t care if some swan dies!”, he almost shouts.
“But Scott…”, I begin. “Who is that swan if not you?”
That’s right. The swan signifies Scott’s life. If she bleeds out so does Scott, metaphorically of course. He will not physically bleed, but the purpose of his life will drain out and he will lose all meaning of life. He will become but an empty shell and one day he will take his own life. I have seen it all happen before, and I cannot let it happen again.
I never found out though, if I was able to convince him.