Gloria Rising: A Story of Hope and Survival In Dark Evil Places

by Linden Morningstar

  She wraps her up in sheet, and after they leave the shelter, after they step outside, the sheet trails in the mud and makes a hissing sound.

  I know there are guards but all guards grow careless when their stomachs are full and when the screaming is in the distance. So I crouch down low, it is dark now, but that won’t last forever. When no one is looking, when their backs are turned, I will hoist Madison over my shoulder and make my way back to the alley.

  The only thing I have to fear is a full moon because in this dream even moonlight is dangerous.

  Gloria’s Helper

  AUTOMATIC LETTER 77

  Wednesday night

  Dear Nice Person,

  I’ve had a chance to read Gloria’s letter from the North Pole signed Santa Claus (actually from you) over and over again – you’ve handed me such a jumble of sweet emotions; you’ve stretched my capacity to care way off-thanks to you Adam my definition of love will never be the same. The best part of coming to you, in talks like this, or at “our home away from home” (your office) is you, and knowing you’ll be there.

  You are the foundation, the base Gloria and I need to touch in good times and bad. No matter how you feel about anything else your feelings toward us are always the same. You’re available for support, reassurance, counsel and during a crisis even physical help. Be assured we won’t take advantage of your goodness but what you have done for us (Gloria and I) will help us to draw strength from – every day of our life. For this precious gift I cannot thank you enough. I had to tell you this before going into Gloria’s dreams.

  A little girl is in her bed – she has been accused of stealing a lot of money and has been found in a closet with the money in the pocket of a dress – her parents have reassured her that they didn’t believe she took the money even after she confessed through fright that she did steal it. No wonder she’s sleepy after this ordeal. In her dream she stares at the crucifix above the bed then closes her eyes – the small figure on the crucifix had seemed to lean forward as if preparing to jump off the cross and onto her pillow.

  She sleeps and dreams she is in prison – endless corridors of cells whose windows looked out on nothing but bars and policemen with guns to shoot anyone who moved. One part of her wants to die – the other part of her mind is shut off like a water faucet – eventually she will have to turn it on – Later – Later she will have to think, to feel – now she has only to move before the police come to get her.

  Next, I see the little girl in the forest before the cemetery gates – the worst are her feet – blood is all over them – she feels like all her bones are broken like when the “Other” throws her across the wall – a little bird draws near her – only it’s not a bird or a pigeon. It’s a little dove and it settles gently on her head – the Pyramid Lady is there and she’s talking to the little girl. I can hear her by going closer.

  She’s saying, “I can’t consider you a thief or a likely candidate for prison or a nervous breakdown Gloria (she knows her name?) I sense a real strength in you more strength than you know is there – you’ve got internal reserves that ability to cope and to keep coping. Now remember don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I’ll help.”

  Next, the little girl is at school and she’s in disgrace – the “Other” told the principal that, “She’s been misbehaving very badly since we moved. Telling lies and arguing all the time and now even stealing from her parents, she took money hidden under carpets in the room. She took things from my room and wouldn’t admit she had. Such a stupid lie as if anyone else would have but she did admit to stealing last night when caught with all that money. I don’t mind telling you. I’m beginning to wonder if she’s not losing her mind. If anything gets taken tell the children where to look,” but the children have heard everything and the little girl is hanging her head in shame – a little boy is crying, “someone stole my crayons and I know who.” Gloria is waking up in a cold sweat. She never stole anything. See you later.

  Gloria’s Helper

  AUTOMATIC LETTER 78

  Thursday night

  Dear Adam,

  The girls upstairs and the man have been gone for three days now – they left they left with his wife – Friday morning at twelve o’clock – how peaceful the nights are – but I think they just went on vacation.

  Gloria had a bad one and yet it turned out better as it went along. Gloria dreamed that she gave her mother a letter with a lot of money in it – mostly twenty dollar bills and told her she took it away from someone (the “Other”) who had stolen it and her mother shook her head sadly and put it in her dress pocket and said, “Just give it to me little Gloria. No need to look like that if you just took it by mistake. I won’t punish you. Just don’t tell fibs.”

  Gloria followed her mother to the kitchen and started setting the table saying, “They went to run away to get married. Well open the envelope and you’ll see,” but the mother got angrier, “Don’t you say one more word. What nonsense. Behave yourself.” Gloria’s face was hot with resentment, she dropped a plate and broke it. Her Mummy had never talked to her like that before. She’d been her good friend.

  Her mother asked, “What have you got against them, you ought to be ashamed of yourself telling tales about people stealing,” and she turned from Gloria.

  The little girl asked, “Mummy do you let them hide in here or in your bedroom?”

  “Yes, there they are under the table or maybe under my bed or maybe under the carpet, you stupid child what are you babbling about?”

  The child knew she would make her angrier but she said, “They go into your bedroom when you’re not here.” Mother stared at her a long time before speaking then said, “I’m warning you little girl if you can’t control your imagination, I’ll give away every one of your books. I’ll give them to some poor child and if you keep on I’ll have your mind looked into. Now just shut up and eat your dinner before you get put off eating. Do you want to help them drive me crazy? You want a crazy mother do you?” She shook the child, “You’re hurting me, you’re hurting me,” “I’ll do more than hurt you,” she flung the child’s hand away from her – plates rattled – beets and gravy slopped over the table. “Who’s been talking to you? If I thought,” the mother took out the envelope and waved a paper in front of the child’s face, “has he been talking to you, don’t you lie to me.” “No, no one’s been talking to me.” The child is trembling to fearful to tell the truth knowing what the “Other” would do.

  The mother looked disgusted, “Wipe your face. I don’t know why I bother cooking for you at all. You’d better have told me the truth. If he hasn’t been talking to you who has?” “I told you, I don’t lie Mother.” “Well there’s always a first time. There’s a certificate with that money where did you get it?” “I told you, I don’t have a certificate. What is that?”

  It went on and on and that night the “Other” told the little girl that her punishment was decided. She was to die and he put her into a large sack with a small cub tiger – a snake – a wild monkey and a big rat and said he’d sew up the sack and they’d all start fighting and he did. All the animals did start fighting, they went berserk but Gloria was the only one who remained calm because she saw a light from the sack and knew there must be an opening. But then she knew her parents were dead and it became very cold in here. I can’t write anymore my hands are too cold – it’s only a dream you see.

  Gloria’s Helper

  AUTOMATIC LETTER 79

  Sunday night

  Dear Adam,

  In my dream tonight Gloria and I were in an art museum and we got lost. But it gave me time to think things over. It’s about art. One thing that makes art different from life is that in art things have a shape, they have beginnings, middles, and endings. Whereas in life, things just drift along. In life somebody has a cold and you treat it as insignificant and suddenly they die. Or they have a heart attack and you are filled with grief until they live for thirty years, demanding you wait on them. You thi
nk a love affair is ending and you are gripped with drama, but two weeks later the guy is standing in your doorway saying, “Hey take me back will you?” In other words, in life one almost never has an emotion appropriate to an event. Either you don’t know the event is occurring or you don’t know its significance. We celebrate births and weddings, we mourn death and divorce; yet what are we celebrating? What mourning? Rituals mark feelings; but feelings and events do not coincide. Feelings are large and spread over a lifetime.

  Anyway that is what art does for us, Gloria and me: it allows us to fix our emotions on events at the moment they occur, it permits a union of mind and tongue and tear. Whereas in life, from moment to moment, one can’t tell an onion from a dry piece of toast.

  Well I’m glad I got that straightened out in my mind and Gloria is still lost in this big marble building. I’ll see if I can help her find her way-out.

  Gloria’s Helper

  AUTOMATIC LETTER 80

  Saturday night

  Dear Adam,

  Before I tell you about Gloria’s dream, I wanted to tell you that it seems like you opened up a whole new world for us – it’s for sure that you are not impeding our progress – sometimes we even find ourselves dreaming about future plans and map out all kinds of things we could do.

  Gloria and I never did this much before because we were so busy helping others and then when they we’re all gone it didn’t seem worthwhile to do things for our self. The other afternoon when we left your office, we couldn’t help but wonder what kind of a little boy you were that turned out to be such a grand and wonderful and decent human adult and once again we thanked God for putting us into your hands to find our way.

  Now, I’ll tell you about one of Gloria’s dreams tonight because it seemed most real. She got bit by a rat and it even hurt in the dream. Her dream gave me an insight into why Gloria was always afraid of losing her mind

  In the dream there was a little girl who was lost in the woods till she came to a clearing and saw her home. She ran to the door and opened it only to see that it was a sort of laboratory place and there was a man there who had a long black apron on – also we could hear animals squealing and yelling – the man put out his arms to welcome us but this little girl turned back toward the door to go out – before she had a chance to leave the man grabbed her arm and said, “Not till you see the cutest little animal you ever saw, watch the tricks I taught him,” and he led the little girl to a cage nearby. There was a rat within a strange box that held it – the man said, “Now watch carefully. I’ve arranged a place in the box and it’s simple to get through for me anyway. But the rat can’t see the whole thing and know there are two correct choices to get through. Now watch.” He dropped food at one end of the box and placed the rat in another. Then he put the glass top back on the box.

  We watched the rat sniffing catching the smell of food, it started through and came to a dead end, retraced its steps and got back on the right track. Then it missed the second turn, backtracked at the dead end and was rewarded by food. Then the man said, “Let’s put this into this place right here,” and he added a new barrier to the box. The little girl protested, “But if you put it there he won’t be able to get through at all.” “Exactly, now watch how the rat reacts.” It was pitiful to watch all the efforts the poor little animal went through and finally it set very still, trembling, immobile. “What happened,” a little voice asked softly. “I frustrated it and he threw in the towel.” “You mean it just stopped trying?” the child asked. “That’s right but it’d probably try again since it can smell the food still.” “So it’s frustrated.” “Yes, unless I stop the frustration it will get neurotic. In fact if I tried I could drive that rat completely crazy. All I have to do is keep changing the rules on it, let it learn the new rules then change them again. As long as the rat knows what to expect he’s all right.” “Well you’re not going to drive him crazy, that’s cruel,” said the little girl and she lifted the glass lid off the cover, the rat ran out and bit her – and the man was very angry and he said, “See you made me angry,” and he threw the little girl across the room and yelled, “It’s like with me – as long as you do what I expect you to, you can feel safe but do something unexpected and it upsets me.” The little girl picked herself up and said, “But I never know what you expect from me because you change the rules every day,” and the man answered, “And so I can drive you crazy and you can’t do anything about it.” She yelled, “Oh, yes I can,” and ran off into the woods but she was sure that he could do what he said because she knew she could run off in a dream but you can’t run all the time when you’re dependent on someone for food. I’m very tired and very cold so I’ll stop here – don’t give up, please.

  Gloria’s Helper

  AUTOMATIC LETTER 81

  Sunday night

  Dear No. 1 Son,

  I saw Gloria reading something lately that I’m sure reminded both of us of our days with you – it was one sentence which said, “In everyone’s life there is an encounter with a wise person. It is a rare and cherished moment.” We’ve had the privilege of such encounters with you several times but never has one month been as precious as this month of April and the beginning of May.

  Even when I felt that I wasn’t making any sense you understood what I was talking about. “Some people pride themselves on their wisdom but it is a shallow one. Wisdom is that intellectual virtue which enables a person to “get it all together”, to organize knowledge and experience into a practical system for happy living,” this is something else we read – it’s okay to make mistakes but take care to get all your knowledge about them all together. I learned a great lesson these past months that I won’t forget ever – to forgive myself and Gloria – which it’s one thing to stand in judgment of someone else and say what you would have done in their place and another to be in that position – you do what you thought was right at the time – what you are able to do – it’s like if someone said, “What would you do if you knew this were your last day on earth? Would the years of your life become so all-encompassing in that short span of moments that the true meaning of living would be revealed and he would make the most of that one day for all days, knowing it to be his last?

  I think the way Gloria and I felt all weekend, thanks to you, we’d look at the blue sky with our feet planted in the moist grass and shout at the heavens, “God how I love life!”

  We have more to get through about the past. You can’t close a mind we’ve learned that. Cutting myself of from part of it is not the same at all. One may live in a single room of one’s house like we did but something else will live in the other rooms. Something else will grow there and it will have to be faced one day or you’ll stop growing. So while we know that we have to talk of other unpleasant things, like a grinning skull that had once been human, that someone smashed against that skull, and other unpleasant experiences at least we know now the relief that comes with the unpleasantness. We have no way of thanking you but we’ll be trying anyway – so for tonight I won’t write about Gloria’s dreams – she had three bad ones but she did sleep and I made notes so I wouldn’t forget about the dreams and will write later.

  It was also the best Mother’s Day we’ve ever had in many years – thank you from a grateful heart because it was you who made it possible for us to feel so free and be ourselves and we don’t want to rob you of a blessing from God for it. God bless you always.

  Gloria’s Helper

  AUTOMATIC LETTER 82

  Wednesday night

  Hi again,

  I’m going to tell you about this dream Gloria had right now because I’ll forget it if I don’t – it’s about a man who came walking to the cemetery near the forest – he was full of energy and his jaw was tight with anger, his eyes were glazed but he sure looked determined. He had a spade in his hand and a little girl he had slammed to the ground jumped up and yelled, “Don’t you dare – look at Moses standing way up on the hill watching you.”

  He
laughed and said, “Hi ya, Moses watch me!” and added, “you and your silly imagination, you just start talking about seeing Moses and me digging a skull up and they’ll lock you up in the loony bin.” His spade raised a top of a wooden crate and he made a long narrow crack in it and he did raise a skull – a hollow skull that had once been a little human – and still he wouldn’t stop digging – finding a rib cage, more bones – skinny tiny fingers and then the little girl was trying to tug him away from the edge of the grave but he shoved her aside, raising the shovel as if he was going to use it on her as a weapon – only he brought it down again and again on the little skeleton, hitting and hitting till he fell to his knees in exhaustion and he had a gleam in his eyes that would have scared anyone – the little girl had a hollow feeling in her stomach. She felt she would float away like you do in dreams and she saw she was lying in the dust – she jumped up and paced back and forth looking at all this destruction yelling, “You terrible, horrible, weak man! I’ll find you every day, you won’t have to look for me from now on – I’ll find you – I’ll look you straight in the eyes and I’ll make you admit what you did.”

  She knew she was so angry she was out of control but it didn’t bother her now. “You’ll be called to answer for this – yes you will!” She ran through dusty motes of sunlight every step kicking up dirt – the man was laughing and his parting words were, “You’re coming to live with me next week don’t forget to bring Moses along,” and the little girl knew not only feelings of anger and hurt – she also felt despair – but all her emotions started short-circuiting into rage and she saw herself grabbing this hateful man by the collar and shaking his head till his eyeballs bulged and his purple tongue rolled in his mouth – she wanted his head in a noose so he’d never talk again.