h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

We can easily wait for Notomia but not for you getting better. Please hurry that up

[I will probably not get better, but here is the next bit about Notomla]


Verse 4, Part 2

To Jung he goes,
To learn of archetypes.

“You are the patriarch,”
Is Jung's conviction.
“The world depends on you
For that which only you can give.
It is your lot in life
To be the one
Who gives to those in need,
And, in so giving,
You receive what you yourself must have.”

Christmas Eve arrives again,
As also does the dream,
The same unchanging dream,
And Al/Notomla wonders:
Did I dream of Freud and Jung as well?

His reverie is broken
By a clinking sound,
Which soon he recognizes
As the beat
Of silver forks and spoons
On porcelain,
As family members gather
For their Christmas Eve repast.

And now his son and daughter
Bring him dinner on a tray,
Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes,
Though he isn't very hungry.
Still, he eats a bit
To humor them,
And soon they walk away,
Talking politics and money,
Wondering why his company's stock
Went down so much today
On rumors that his health is poor.
Must have been those danged reporters
That were here the other day!

Notomla dozes off, but wakes again;
The parlor fire has been lit,
The sparks still dance,
The north wind howls outside.
Notomla knows
What dream he will soon have.
He hopes it will not be his last.

Here's the next installment:


Verse 5, Part 1

In Boston there's a bookstore
In a shopping mall,
Where Stanley Clo,
On Christmas Eve
(And late to boot:
It's 8:00p.m.!),
Wants just the perfect book to read,
His recent dream to understand.
Religion or psychology?
Or maybe folktales of the Sioux?
He's never had a dream like this,
A reindeer and a bearded man
Who asked his help
And promised, in return,
Fulfillment of his vision quest.
Stan leaves the bookstore,
Musing still,
And listens momentarily
As a cappella singers
In Victorian array
Bounce their carols off the rafters.
Down the glass-walled elevator
Goes our dreamer,
To the spot
Where his humble transportation
Waits in faithful silence
For his key.
Half an hour, maybe less,
Finds him sitting in his parlor,
Apprehensive that tranquility
Shall have vanished
When he starts to dream tonight.

Here's verse 5, part 2

Verse 5, Part 2

A peaceful dream
He shall not have,
For halfway through the night,
A voice familiar
Speaks his name.
Waking, he sees
The haggard, ashen face
Of the old man
Of his previous dream,
And hears,
In halting, feeble tones,
The old man's plea
That Stanley Clo
Might help him out
Tonight.

“One night a year,”
The old man sighs,
“I have the dream
In which I ride
A sleigh piled high
With gifts for all the world.
Tonight, I share this dream with you,
Because alone I've not the strength
To finish what I've started.
Alas, it was my folly
Not to hire an apprentice
Who could carry on
When I am gone.
My kind of kindred spirits
Are quite few and far between.
Though I've read the hearts of millions,
All I seem to find is
You.”

“I'm quite willing, Sir, to help you,”
Stan Clo answers,
“Though I fear,
This is no one-time arrangement,
But a true lifetime career.
You've said that you can read men's hearts,
But can you seize their dreams?”

“No, no,” says Santa softly,
“I can read another's dreams,
But you are fearful needlessly.
I would not now be in your dream
If 'twere against your wish.”

Verse 5, part 3

The air is cold
As Stan helps Santa
Climb into his sleigh .
At every house,
'Tis Stan who lugs
The sacks of gifts
For placement
'Round the Christmas tree.

But when the sleigh is moving
As from house to house it flies,
It's Santa who takes charge
As he shares a lifetime's secrets
With his new-found designee:

“There's a burden borne by Santa
No one else can understand,
For a dream can last much longer
Than the dreamer is asleep,
And the task of bringing gifts
Is monumental to the core.
In your waking hours,
You find that hardly anyone
Believes
Santa Claus exists,
Or, if he does,
That Santa Claus is you.
You must tell the press, especially,
That there's no Santa Claus.
Otherwise you'd be stalked
By folks who'd like to profit
By their links to you.

“Santa has his workshop
At the North Pole
For a reason,
For seclusion has its blessings.
You can not be forced to live there,
But, in case you'd like to try it,
We could use another worker
At my company.”

He smiled.

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