Felicity Sullivan

Period 7
4/8/16

I Saw the Banana Fox in Indiana

The banana fox lives in a banana tree in indiana. The banana tree is very strong
and can hold all sorts of animals, but I saw the banana fox. The banana fox lives in a
banana tree in Indiana. El zorro vive en el arbol de los bananas. Porque? Porque vive,
si vive en un arbol de bananas? Quien se? Yo no se, solo se que mira un zorro en el
arbol de banana. This is not my dream. Everything is a dream. My world is in the
banana tree. It is 2016 the year of the banana fox. I can no longer feel love because of
the year of the banana fox. It is coming because I saw it. The banana fox lives in a
banana tree in Indiana. My world is a dream. The banana fox knows. The banana fox
lives in a banana tree. Have you ever remembered a memory, but cannot remember if it
was reality, or an old dream? Do you ever remember a dream from long ago, then
suddenly wonder if it was the one that you had last night? The banana fox knows. The
banana fox lives in a banana tree in Indiana. I have been to Indiana, where there are
banana trees. There I saw the banana fox. Can you feel the smooth yet cold sky
between your fingers when you swim at night? Do the stars burn new, yet unnoticed
freckles into your skin? The constellations have printed themselves onto you. You are
branded with the mark of the sky. The banana fox knows. The banana fox lives in a tree
in Indiana. Its eyes are not mine, for i saw the banana fox in a banana tree in indiana. I
saw the banana fox, therefore I am not the bananafox. When you scream alone to
yourself inside your head a does the fire eat your heart too? Raging on in the desert of
your mind, the banana fox continues to find your secrets. The banana fox lives in a
Banana tree in Indiana. Visita mi abuela en Indiana, pero no vivo en indiana. El zorro de
los bananas vive en un arbol de bananas en Indiana. I live in a house. My house is very
strong, and can support many people. But the banana fox did not see me. I saw the
banana fox. It was in Indiana. Its fur hides what we do not want to see, because we are
not the banana fox. I am not the banana fox. The banana fox cannot see me, but I saw
the banana fox. It lives in a tree. Bananas are yellow like the eyes of the banana fox.
The banana fox lives in a banana tree in Indiana. I saw the banana fox, but the banana
fox can never see me. There is a dream in the banana foxs lower eyelid; when it blinks I
wake up. Mi vida es un sueno. But the dream is not my life. I wake into the existance
where I saw the banana fox. It really lives in a banana tree in Indiana. Just over the last
hill on the border of my waking existence, I can feel the moisture on the nose of the
banana fox. The tongue of the banana fox can taste the furthest memory of when I ate
the banana; then I remember it too. The banana fox lived in a banana tree in Indiana. I
am not the banana fox.

I had to wake from the dream eventually. The room had no color; the room had
no sound. When my body allowed me to move, I did not. I lay in bed, still, I was able to
move, but my mind did not want to. My heart beat fast form the hallucinations. They
were over now. I lay shivering until I was no longer scared. I sat up slowly on the pillowy
mattress and moved my eyes to the window where a delicate beam of yellow light
blinded me through the dark room. I rose; feeling the entire weight of myself, my bones,
my muscles, my skin my organs, being pulled down towards the core of the earth, I was
made to fall back into my bed. The mattress enveloped the heaviness of my body. It
consumed me. The gravity felt kinder now, so I attempted to rise again. My hands sunk
unto the sheets until they couldn't any longer, and I was lift slowly into the cold, moldy,
air once more. I balanced myself and began to walk. My feet still felt heavy, I lifted them
with great, gradual effort, then let them fall back to the invisibly black wooden floor.
When my first step smacked the ground, the silence was broken. I could hear the
sounds of the city from my window. An ambulance wailed in the distance. My other foot
collided with the ground. I could hear the ancient ceiling fan above my bed. It squeaked
with every revolution. I took several more exasperatingly difficult steps to the window
and tore the curtains down, along with the curtain rod. It was loud and quick, and
reckless, but it happened in slow motion and I could hear everything as though it were
echoing over and over in my mind all at once. I heard the curtain rods nails being
uprooted from the wall, the shredding of the curtains as they ripped, and finally the
unbearably loud and sharp clanging of the curtain rod hitting the floor. I almost fell
again, but the yellow light showered over me and found its way into the squinted slits of
my eyes and I was greeted with the sky.
The sky was an ugly color; a shade of yellow that reminded me of smokers teeth.
The clouds had hidden themselves as if in disgust; leaving this wretched color plastered
across the invisible ceiling of the world. Time itself was uncertain as my mind was lifted
through it and past the outer space that mirrored the past darkness of my room. The
banana fox lives in a banana tree in
Stop.
I could not continue like this. It could not happen again. I struggled to open the
old, white wooden window. It was stuck hard on something, so it made a great deal of
clattering with no real progress. I stepped back, then lunged forward and slammed my
fists on the window in frustration. A sliver of the peeling white wood splintered itself into
my right fist, under my pinky. I felt pain, and a headache smashed over my brain with a
violent pressure. It did not throb. It felt like a sound, one constant, unfaltered, painfully
high sound. I could no longer stand. I fell. My heart raced again. My mind. My mind. My
mind was somewhere. I could not think. I could not make myself breathe. I was going to
die. I was scared. My consciousness had begun slipping the moment the pain had
started, and as it slipped more and more to the boarder of my waking mind, I got more
scared. I could not go back. I could not risk being seen.

I was already there. I was in Indiana. I was on the hill where there were banana
trees. I had not been seen yet. My secrets were mine, and I was myself. I had to eat
one before I saw or was seen.
The first banana tree stood a few meters in front of my mind. I began to walk
towards it. My movements were not mine, though I had control. I moved impossibly slow
with all my effort to go faster. But there was no weight, I moved stiffly, yet gently, and it
was as if I were trying to move through water. I had to think of home. My bed was soft.
Gravity was forceful, yet kind. I began to feel more of a push from the ground beneath
me. My floor was wooden, and dark when there is no sunlight. My ceiling fan was old
and creaky. The air began to not feel as thick, and my legs began to carry me. My
curtains are loud when they come down. My window will not open. I reached out to grab
a banana from the banana tree. My room smells like mold. My fingers touched the cool,
smooth skin at the bottom of a bunch of bananas. The sky is an ugly yellow. I see the
banana fox. It has not seen me.
Eat the banana. I must remember my world. I am myself and not the banana fox.
I peel the color of the sun from the fresh, soft inner flesh of the banana. Remember, the
color of the sky is ugly, the color of bananas is not the same sun. I move it closer to my
mouth and smell the sweet, almost floral aroma of the banana. The banana fox is not
turning its head. I do not live in Indiana. My teeth sink into the mushy fruit and taste the
soft, then slippery sweetness.
I have tasted the banana. I have not been seen by the banana fox. I live in a
house that is not in Indiana. The banana fox lived in a banana tree in Indiana.
Now I am back home. The hallucinations no longer haunt my waking mind. The
banana fox was is dead.