Signed: James Dean

TITLE:  JDG Brother of Light! Have a look deep insideYour soul’s cryingBetter listen to your spirit sighingTo free yourself from desperationWhy do you always have such a sad face?Your mind drowned in a mental messPrisoner of love denialMagnifying your emotional deprivationYou are like a naked flame flickering in the deepest nightAlways looking on darknessFeeling insecure, with no hope for tomorrowBut you left your heart behind on the Hall of Fame, for us to worshipAn aura of respect embraces the D’s legacy foreverA talented persona to remember Brother of Light! With the saddest look in your eyesSometimes, a fierce and piercing stare from your intense blue eyesLike a flashing fever in your eyesDo I mind?You’re not there, but still, I can imagine youA Giant, sure, that’s what you areA ducky boy in the doorwayWith one more way“I can’t play this scene twice”You walk down the street, with a cool expression full of confidence; smoking like hell to show off the “rebel” in youAnd right after that, to find yourself racked by anguish, remorse and despairI know it’s unfair!Again and again, the unbearable painA beating in your brainThat drives you to desperationDesperation of the lonely voices inside of you, yearning for emotional liberation Brother of Light! ‘Think you’re cute, tough-mindedStill, you’re crying your heart out, slumped over the steering wheel of your sport carBorn under a lucky star?Too many questions, to so many mysteries and so much sufferingGirls and cigarettes are second to noneThey never last longShort-lived satisfactionJimmy slow down, you’re driving too fast, Jimmy’s weepingYou can smell her perfume, along the coastal roadHer pretty face is haunting you, along the coastal roadYou already set out on your doomed road trip to the Boulevard of Broken Dreams Brother of Light! Your angry little heart is beating so fastAnd the bitterness inside of you comes out fastThat temperamental sideThe one you say that you can’t hideAn unmistakable deadly charmThat will soon turn your body into a haloAll you wanna do is to let yourself goTo ease the unbearable painSo you step out of your cageAnd onto the stageFor the final actThat will leave the mark of Cain right here insideFord the unknown river and head for East, you may reach EdenWhere you’ll probably find the peace of mind, you’ve always been searching forEmotional outburst here, emotional outburst thereOriginal carefree, misunderstood “Bad-boy-with-a-heart”, still graces the bedroom walls of today’s teens.Eternal youth and passion here and there Brother of Light! Tell me your fears, tell me your dreams, your stories, your sorrows! OkayAm I in?“Dream as if you’ll live forever, live as if you’ll die today”Poor Jimmy, you never knew what you were in for!Death was the price you had to payI can hear you say: “Rescue me”How could I, even if I wanted to?You can’t run away from yourselfYou felt like an old book left on a dusty shelfSometimes, we all feel that way tooBut some folks say:Love needs its martyrsThat thing called love needs its sacrificesSo we become our own jailorsYou’ll be waiting patientlyTelling you, it’s alrightPraying for the gates of your mind to openAnd walk blindly towards freedomThat will help you reach the height of emotional emancipation and heal your soulThen you’ll find out, love is not something that is out of our handsA hidden law, a forbidden fruit, the Death of HappinessBut a destiny, a resurrectionOpen your heart and soul I don’t think you ever agreed to be our Holy OneSo, let the apple falls and the Spirit of Freedom will rise within youTelling your true selfThat the fire of love can burn deep inside your heart foreverThe rest doesn’t matterI should’ve said it all to you back thenToo bad, now you’ll never know…  “-Well that’s it. Enough for today. I just love writing poetry, putting down whatever comes to my mind. Actually, I’m quite satisfied with what I’ve done so far.Sounds good to me. I realize that, each and every day, I’m getting better at writing verse. Let’s say, I’m trying. I have plenty of time to do so now.I think, I could have made a living out of writing. Why not? Something like a movie script or a play, I could’ve played in and produced. I dreamt of it. The Warner nine picture contract included two movie productions of my own… I’ve always been mad about Bullfighting and all the stuff that goes with it. To tell you the truth, I’m quite obsessed by the subject. I remember, decades ago, I started to write a play about a badly injured torero, gored in the belly by a fighting bull’s horn. Following that misfortune, he had to go through the ordeal of the near death accident and face up to his own fears, prior to his triumphant comeback to the bullring. For this new experience, I got myself a serie of notebooks. Page after page, I wrote down technical, artistic comments and details about directing. I was not only acting on movie sets. Quite often, during a long break in filming, I’d watched the movie director technical work and listened to what he had to say. The do’s and don’ts concerning directing. Thus I could keep traces of the technical side of my craft too. “Keep on learning from others” was another of my spearhead. I always kept in mind, that the best way to improve the way one acts and feel secure in your acting, is by getting around. Follow your instincts and opt for “on-the-job” training, wherever you are; rather than a strict academic environment. Just feel and choose the path that is right for you. It will pay off! Go for it then. I didn’t get that from the Actor’s Studio! Certainly not. What you think or what you feel is more important. And real acting is about all that. Real acting technique is not to know the lines too well; so it may look like, you’re searching for the words… Thus, there will be no uncertainty about your commitment to your art. For me, that’s the only way of achieving good acting and symbolizing the quest for authenticity, beyond admiration of facial features or mere respect for the persona. Breaking the rules and construct a value system yourself, an individualized, but viable identity, as an artist. Then when you can become a cult figure, a household name. A myth? Even if your life’s cut short, like mine was. Your image and legacy will live on and on. Well, what else can I say? I know what I’m talking about! Anyway, it’s too late now for me to think about all that stuff… No one knows and will never know how fast I was driving or if it was an accident. I was only 24 y.o. I just know that something went wrong. All that destructive tendencies that flourished within me over the years, were greatly magnified by the end of my short but eventful life. Could that be the real cause of my sudden and premature death? The loss of my life in that horrible accident could’ve been prevented. Well, too bad, too late now… Always looking for an loophole. I don’t think I knew at that time, what I was really after. The strange kind of behaviour, I loved to show off, led me to a senseless waste. Waste of my talents, waste of my life. Who’s to blame? I have to admit, I could hardly cope with my persistent and deliberate antagonism to just about everyone. But I couldn’t help it. My strangeness was notorious on the Hollywood scene and among the few so-called friends I had, then. In fact, very few people knew who I really was. Behind the magnificent gorgeous Jimmy, there was a young man who just wanted to be himself, who believed in himself, and at the same time felt insecure, highly vulnerable and distraught. Many things in my life affected me. Until the end, I was haunted by my mother’s death. I also felt truly unloved by my father. I felt abandoned by both my parents. And more, I wasn’t always honest ‘bout my love and sexual life. But in the 50’s, we didn’t think along those lines…! You know. Well, I’m sure you understand, what I mean… On the “Torn Sweater” photos, the look in my eyes said it all: desperate and scared.  I hated my own careless attitude and independence from society. The fact I had always been contemptuous of authority. At that time, I didn’t know other way to live my life. Also, I unfortunately do think, Hollywood “ruined me” too. I wasn’t aware of it, when I was in the business. Or maybe, I acted as if I had given no thought to that possibility. Hollywood made me a star. I reached the Height of Fame, propelled into the limelight. The Hollywood PR machine said I was a huge star well before I finished my first movie. In a way, I supposed that or I have to admit, it went straight to my head. Jimmy thought he knew it all: “Let me live my own life, nuts to you all!” And what the hell happened next? I didn’t last long. The dashing young actor Jimmy Dean was wasting away fast! There was a real down side to stardom. Everyone was taken in by my rebel attitude and felt for my unmistakable charm. And my nonconformist way of acting added to that. Right away, I went on to live out my fantasies in the most peculiar way. Live fast and… Perhaps, my only salvation? In order to hide my insecurities, I hid behind a façade which consisted of delighting people, in nothing better than thumbing my nose at the Establishment, through a headstrong attitude, coarse language, reckless driving and show off. Vain display of my already inflated ego. I felt like being trapped in the web of Hollywood artificial life and my own real life tensions. I remember spending my then suddenly full wallet on expensive sport cars and whizzing along the Hollywood Hills. I even entered a few car racings too. And won a few too. I was not fully aware, I had already embarked on a dangerous and doomed path to hell. Live fast and… No need to tell you again, how it all ended! Breaking news: “There’s been an accident on a Californian Highway. Bobby sox idol Jimmy Dean’s been killed. He was only 24 y.o.”It seemed that the whole universe witnessed and recorded the fateful moment. To quote most of the news flashes back then: “The restless life of James Dean had come to a violent end. His badly mangled body laid lifeless, impaled on his sport car’s steering column. The violence of the impact was tremendous.”“-All I can remember is feeling the wind ruffling my already unruly hair. And I enjoyed it. Even though, little while ago, I had been given a speeding ticket for exceeding the speed limit. But my wild instincts told me to rev the engine and literally gun it along the Californian highway. As usual, fascination and impulse always got the better of me, as far as fast cars were concerned. Like so many others of my generation, I exulted in the freedom which four wheels afforded and provided me. It was terrific! I thrived on this sort of kick. I felt high, real high. And that high was as effective as the most potent drug. I hardly noticed the countryside flashing by me on either side. I just followed the urgings of my passionate and impulsive self. Oh, I was in heaven. In the meantime, ahead of me loomed a car “the fatal car”… It all happened within seconds. Fast and deadly. My unconsciousness proved to be fatal. The final moments consisted of slamming on the brakes, skidding, colliding and finally hitting a telegraph pole. An excruciating pain took possession of my whole body and darkness fell upon me as though the sun had suddenly become eclipsed. I had just been brought face to face with death. Within seconds after the crash, I felt myself falling right into a deep slumber and telling myself: now you’ll be able to get what you’ve been searching for so long: Peace of Mind. And also, accept whatever may come next…                        ################################################   “-I was standing there in the middle of a broad and desert like road. A road that stretched away in the distance. I felt dizzy. Oh, the unbearable pain which enveloped my neck paralysed the top of my body, from my chest right up to the roots of my hair. Still, I started walking down the road, unsteady on my feet. I held my head with both of my hands. So intense the pain was. Finally, I managed to reach the sidewalk. And then, against all odds, the sharp pain disappeared completely. The pain exited from my swollen neck, like magic. From a state of excessive pain I now appeared to have fully recuperated from my physical trauma, as if I had been through a long subsequent convalescence in the healing ward of a hospital. I looked around me across the surrounding landscape, in a dreamlike, unreal state, as I began to feel vigorous in body and mind, like never before. I was vaguely aware that a few cars were whizzing by… One of them could have hit me though. I kept telling myself, you’re in one of your weird dream again, Jimmy. Aren’t you? So let the dream be… Shortly thereafter, an ambulance car drove by at high speed, leaving behind a cloud of dust. I was conscious of various people bustling about, conversing with one another from time to time. But strangely enough, I couldn’t see them. However, I was to find out later on, that my then condition of sickness was definitely a thing of the past! I can’t tell you how long I remained in that condition. It seemed to be not important at his particular moment! An imparting strength and vitality took control of the very depth of my being. Amazed, I just stood there on the sidewalk, with the cars whizzing by… All was well with me, but still there was an unusual sense of subconscious, -that from now on- will not part from me till… I walked on, leaving behind the hustle and bustle, as well as the voices. That fuss died down and everything went quiet. That sudden quietude caused me some confusion at first. But an accompaniment of wonderful Zen music coming from nowhere, enveloped my whole self, and helped me carry on down the road. Strangely enough, I was not scared at all, whatever the location I was in. Even though, I didn’t have a clue of what I was doing here! You must be in one of your weird dream, I remember telling myself. Let the dream be, then. I had never experience this before, but I wanted to make further progress within that dreamlike situation, to continue on my journey. I didn’t intend to mope around for long in that sort of no man’s land. I didn’t want to be stucked in that place. “-Nothing going! I ain’t gonna stagnate in that sort of petrified landscape”. Subsequently, I’d soon find out, that I was engaged in a new direction, following a minor interruption in the process of everyday living… As time progressed, I think it did, even if I was unaware of such passing, I arrived at a huge junction. I looked up at the road signs and was surprised to find out that they were all blank. I suppose that was part of the dream too. When I looked around I noticed there was about a good dozens of blank road signs spread all over the junction. What was supposed to mean? What was I supposed to do then? Do it my own way, I think. Then, I turned back and began wandering over to a small block of pretty houses, instead of heading towards any direction as non indicated on the blank road signs. Amazingly enough, I was still walking on the same sidewalk, but now the broad and desert like road appeared to be a large boulevard that goes through the block. It was rather like a very little town. Few houses, a mall, a gas station, a Happy Hour and so on. Why such a big boulevard would go through such a small town? I didn’t have a clue! I decided to go ahead. It was all quiet. Apart from the wind playing havoc with my mop of fair hair. All of a sudden, I found myself breaking out into a broad grin, for no specific reason. I had to face the facts. Face what??? What was happening to me was odd! Can you believe it? Megastar Jimmy Dean in the middle of nowhere… I took a pack of fags out of my pockets and lit a cigarette. By the time I took a drag on a Winston, someone yelled: “-Hiya! Jimmy”. “-That’s my name”, I yelled back rudely. I squinted at the direction where the voice was from. I could hardly distinguish the form and shape of the person waving at me from faraway. It became obvious; I didn’t have my glasses on. It was no open secret, everyone knew that being short-sighted, I was inclined to squint. For the third time an ambulance car drove by at top speed – emergency lights flashing on and off- followed by a couple of cars. The person who waved at me was now standing right in front of me. A woman. I gasped when I saw her. When I laid eyes on her, I got the feeling we had met before, I’d swear to it… Uncanny how she, reminded me of my… She was a beauty without compare!!!  “-Hiya Jimmy! How is it going? You’ve been around for a long time, ha? -Oh no, I replied, I’ve just landed in that no-man’s land. Must have been by accident. Then she added with a strange look on her face “-What a coincidence! Need I say more?” She looked young but though I had the feeling that an older woman stood before me. Another dream weirdness! It was like having in front of me a 2 in 1 person. A young and an old woman, both rolled into one. What made me feel this way? Something deep inside told me she was an acquaintance of mine or more. You can sense things like that. Because of that intuitive perception, I fired questions at her. She retracted, wary of my insistence on questioning her. She knew I was trying to know the truth about her. She started acting strangely and asking me some bizarre questions, I couldn’t even be bothered to answer. I was always going back to the subject… At one time, I told her straight to her face, to stop pretending (she was acting as if she didn’t know what I was talking about!) and to let me know who she really was. I’ve never been keen on playing that sort of silly game “verbal hide and seek”. When Jimmy Dean is set to do, know or get something, no one can stop him. Man, I’m rough when I feel I have to be. I know, I’ve got quite a temper. Too hot! I can easily drift from sanity to madness and back again, if someone pisses me off. By and by, she detected that I was seeking information about her identity in a very oblique way. For results, all I could get out of her was: h’m, h’m and h’m. Then I sort of turned on the charm. That’s when she got really upset. The lady would suffer no nonsense from me. It was all serious business with her. According to that pseudo young woman, her task was to initiate me into a far greater understanding of the present situation, of which I finally belonged now. What was she talking’bout? All that blab bla bla didn’t make sense to me, no matter how I try. Anyway she went on and on “-They sent me to you… From now on, I’ll take care of you. Bla bla bla, bla bla bla…” As far as I was concerned, she was -one among many others- well versed in the art of bullshit. A real bullshit artist! That’s what she was. Her enthusiastic speech just sounded like a mystical hogwash to me! And just to think about it now, it makes me laugh loudly. “-I’ll take you under my wing. You’ll see everything will work out just fine, Jimmy…” Well, I’m not attempting to denigrate her. But she got too weird for me. I know I said it many times before, but I have to repeat myself here: That’s just the way it is in the Dreamland. I can’t argue with that, so to speak… To cut short her never ending speech, I flung back at her, with a note of deep irritation “-For fuck sake, could we go for coffee now?” Earlier on, I had spotted a Happy Hour further up the place where we stood. It soon became apparent to her, that I began to show visible signs of my annoyance. She finally felt the need to apologize for her distorted language… But stressed that, what she was talking about, was of peculiar interest. I should listen to her with a great deal of interest, because her words were of the utmost importance, for the very near future. Personally, I couldn’t care less. And to top off my “couldn’t-care-less-attitude” about her and her crap, I gave her a stream of cuss words, and then slicked back my hair; for the “coup de grace”. As usual, there was my ever-present cigarette dangling from my lip, which served to pull my lower lip into a kind of pout, guaranteed to produce a sexy sensual image, I did that on purpose, in order to shock her better. Our exchange got real bad, fierce. The rhythm of her speech went up and up. I said to myself: “-If you get on my wrong side babe, you’ll see how bad I can be. All the worse nuances of my language came out. To annoy her better, I looked down at her feet, then up into her eyes, in a non-expressive way, and within seconds, one of my famous glowing smiles would burst forth. I was trying to think as many dirty things as I could to offend her. At the end, it revealed that all my attempts to shut her up proved to be fruitless! She began to talk about my certain period of acclimatization here; about my former dissolute ways and derelictions… That I was yet in my very infancy… She had a fond hope that such could be put to a positive use here. Sadly to say, I continued my own exploration concerning one of my deepest vice: coarse language. For her ears only. By now, my disposition and failure to get what I wanted to know about her began feeding off each other in a vicious cycle. For sure, she felt I was about to flare up. She insisted but adopted a new strategy. She began a dialogue which revolved around me. I knew, she did that on purpose. Just to see if it would calm me down a bit. Being accustomed to the limelight, I was not at all averse to this sort of discussion. I became increasingly excited as she gently led me to understand that I needn’t feel guilty, about the lack of love from my dad. His own distorted emotions, which he had to live with, will continue to perpetuate his malaise ‘till death, without ever addressing the real cause. It was obvious, I couldn’t rectify his mental trauma. She told me that much of my aberrated rebellious behaviour was a demonstration of the seething bitterness -which raged inside of me- towards my dad. I was an unwitting victim of that denial of love. It was fairly obvious, I suffered greatly from a lack of love and true affection since I was a little kid. I said with a quavering voice, tears running down my face “-That will be enough for today”. As far as I remember, I’ve always covered up whatever I felt about the absence of my father’s approval and love. I was used to go without it. I’ve never really gone on a lot. It was not my thing. When I was alone with someone, I would never completely relax or open up. That’s the way I am. No need to say more… Well, at the same time, I wanted her to tell me more about this topic. Beseeching her to do so. The lady tempered my impatience with the calm assurance that ultimately, I would indeed become informed of such things and many others, in order to progress along my new pathway. She was so right concerning my dad. All this truth was imparted so kindly with an air of great motherly tenderness, love and concern, for she sure knew that this was the type of thing I would become most responsive to. I was so sensitive about the subject. Staring into space, the following thought occurred to me: could that be her? Why not? I just can be in the middle of a weird dream! Oh Heaven! Assure me, I’m only dreaming. Or perhaps my mind designed all this to help me test out my strengths and weaknesses, to enable me to deal with and learn firsthand from my everyday experiences. When I wake up, I’ll have to think seriously about what I experienced through that dream! I wept and at the same time, I felt her arm encircling my frame. Her reassuring and comforting words penetrated my troubled mind and soothed away the inner pain. As soon as, as I began to feel better we wandered over a park where we walked for a short while, amid a profusion of gaily-colored flowers and the comforting harmony of birdsong. When, I had quieted down a bit, I apologized to her. Telling her straight, I was wrong to act the way I did. It’s true. I shouldn’t have been rude to her. That I was too ridiculous for words. She responded: “-I think you’re right, that will be enough for today. You need time to adjust to your current surroundings.” I stared at her, rolled my eyes, and went “-Oh boy! Here she goes again.” Her reaction was to look down at my feet, then up into my eyes in a non-expressive way and within seconds, we both burst out laughing. I could tell by the look in her eyes that she was fully aware of the effect; her little part was having on the wayward Jimmy. Within a short period of time, this lady had tamed the young lion called Dean. I don’t know why, but she reminded me so much of my mother…  Shortly after, we sort of hanged around the block of houses, chatting non sense, laughing ‘till we cried, and wondered whether to pop in the Happy Hour or go to her house. Oh dear, what a dilemma! Finally, she invited me to drop by her house. I accepted the invitation, and we both walked to her home. So, I went along with her. En route to her place, we kept on clowning around. “-Hey lady, if I had my camera, I’d take a few photos of you and I. I’d take them right there in the middle of the street… C’mon, don’t say I’m nuts. That’d be fun. Later on, when I get older, I’ll look back with nostalgia to this photographic encounter.” Odd enough, I found myself talking as if I was in the real world, awake. I think we got off to a bad start, but I think we hit it off, now.   We arrived at a street corner. Until now, there was not a living soul to be seen! A huge sign on the front side of the gas station opposite, said: “Boulevard of Broken Dreams”. I didn’t really pay attention to it, except that it was all written in the boldest possible letter, as though someone wanted to draw my attention to it. That was not an important issue. For the time being though! The lady gave me a nudge, as to say, come on, let’s go. We then crossed the large Boulevard, turned round another corner, and there, was her house, next to a wooded-area. By the time we reached the porch, a high wind, approaching gale force, began to blow throughout the block of houses. My attention zeroed in on the wooded-area, which appeared to be the source of the gale. Awareness overcame me that this area was in fact a cemetery. A whirl of dust went up in the air, as I got closer to the wooded-area/cemetery. An unknown force literally attracted me to this area. It was like being moved towards the cemetery by a magnetic force. As by magic, I stopped right before a grave. My mother’s grave. Flowers had been put on it. On the tombstone was written “Mildred Dean 1911-1940”. At once, I recognized the Dean’s family cemetery plot back in Fairmont Indiana. Right next to my mother’s grave, a shadowy human shape who seemed to have appeared from nowhere, was digging a deep hole. A gravedigger? When the shadowy human shape had done with the hole, it vanished into thin air. A large flat piece of stone had been put carefully above the hole. On that tombstone, I could read “…..  Dean  ….-1955” Stone me! The Dean family name, a date and nothing else! What was that supposed to mean? A member of my family was soon to decease or what? My dad, my aunt, cousin, who else? But I remembered at that time what some folks said: “if you dream about graves, dead people, tombs, it was a very positive thing!”  But still, I was left puzzled… After a while what seemed to be the outlines of the two graves, began to fade and became blurred. I felt the lady tugging at my ragged T-shirt. Until now, I hadn’t noticed that my clothing was tattered. In fact, it bore more little resemblance to clothing. Let say that “rags” was a more appropriate word. The lady kept on tugging my T-shirt, as though to pull me away from here. I stared at her, and it was manifest to me, in this particular dream, that she was my mother. No matter how young she looked. “-C’mon tell me what your name is” Speaking bluntly to her.-My name’s Millie. Satisfied now, Dean?”… Inside her house, everything was neat, cosy and pretty. You could tell at a glance, that a girl was living here. As soon as we got in, she left me and made her way to the kitchen, to make coffee. I heard her putting the kettle on. She then took her shoes off and showed me round the house. Flowerpots here, plant pots there. Walking through the hallway, I was rather taken aback by what I saw. The walls were flanked and covered by photographs. Photographs that portrayed me. I stood still before one of them. What happened next was astonishing to say the least. The photograph came to life. And the rest of the pictures followed suit. Then faint images of what seemed like my childhood, teen and early adulthood, began to parade past my astonished gaze. Millie pulled me and showed me the way up to the first floor. She then led me to a large, impressive-looking room, which could be likened unto a palace bedroom. On the linen cupboard, there was a stack of sweet smelling sheets. Photographs of the rebellious actor Jimmy Dean plastered every surface. Once again, I thought: “it’s just a dream. Just a dream. It can’t be real.” But strange enough, a dream which seemed to never end. In the meantime, she went back down to get coffee. While she was downstairs, I moved towards the bathroom. There, I slicked back my hair in front of a shadowy cracked mirror, exulting at the carbon copy of “Good old Jimmy Dean” which beamed back at me. Before I realized what was going on, the shadowy cracked mirror disappeared, leaving behind an impressive trail of blood on the wall. I flinched as the cold blood splashed over me. I screamed out loud and almost blackned out, sickened by the physical trauma of the moment. My scream must have alerted her, ‘cos Millie rushed up the stairs, took me straight out of the bathroom, and gently showed my way to the bed, on which I lied down. She put her hands on my forehead, and immediately soothed away the excruciating pain. What happened next? I don’t really know. Did I fall asleep? Probably. How come one could fall asleep in a dream? Is that possible? Anyway, a few hours later, I guess I woke up. I woke up frightened and desperate with fright: “-How can it be?” My desperation grew worse as I looked around me. I was still in the same goddamn dream. Same place, same girl. I pulled the sheet over my head in desperation. “-Hey Jimmy, you slept for quite a long time. Tell me, when was the last time you got a decent night rest? Well, well, well. You look so much better now. Totally relaxed and rested.-What happened to my clothes, Millie? Don’t look at me like that? That’s your name, isn’t it?-You mean your rags. They all ended up in the garbage can. I got you some new ones. Look. Well, what have we got here? A new denim, new T-shirt, a pair of sox and a pair of Converse. What d’ya think Rebel?-I don’t want any of those things. Who cares about your brand new clothing, anyway? All I want right now is to wake up, be back in my own bed at home, back to reality. That’s all. What the hell is going on? What have I done to deserve this? I don’t remember having taken drugs or chemicals. So why can’t I wake up for heaven’s sake? I stormed.-Fancy a cup of coffee and some raisin bread? She said. In order to get my mind off the subject.-I don’t give a flying fuck ‘bout your coffee and raisin bread! Leave me alone. Buzz off! Can’t you hear me; all I want to do is to wake up, be back in real life!!!-All right, all right, calm down. You don’t have to bark at me. Ok, Ok, if you want to wake up, ‘cos it seems the only thing, you want to do, get dressed and follow me.-Where are… Oh Millie, I’m sick and tired of all this!-Hush! You wanna wake up, Jimmy. I’ll wake you up then.” I spoke sternly to me. Before she walked out the bedroom, she added in a severe tone; “-I’m just trying to make it easier for you, Jimmy. Full cooperation is essential, if you want to live a reasonably smooth existence in your new surroundings. If not, you’ll have to struggle a lot to progress along your own new evolutionary pathway!” As I didn’t want to argue with her once again, I resigned. I was down the stairs whithin minutes. “-well, I’m impressed. Wow! Just right on time. I guess we can leave now, Jimmy.-Where are we going?-To the Happy Hour. What’s the matter AGAIN? Something bothers you again about what I’m saying? Listen, if you…-All right, all right, beat it. I follow you. Come on let’s go.” Right after she had closed the front door behind us -as we walked out of her house- we heard the distant wail of ambulance sirens…   On our way down to the Happy Hour, we passed by the wooded-area/cemetery. I just glanced at it. No more than that. The stormy weather was scorching, the air was damp. As we looked up at the storm clouds, we knew we had to speed up, in order to reach our destination as quickly as possible, before a tremendous storm broke.   Before the Happy Hour main door, I just froze at the sound of the former bustling about, various people conversing with one another. But this time, it was much louder. And worse, I could feel the movements of these people, when they came near me or passed close by. But still as before, I couldn’t see them. I recall that it was all very intense. “-Millie can you feel them. Can you hear these voices? Come over here. What’s this all about?-You’ll soon know Jimmy. You’ll soon know. Now, let’s get in.”   Quite a few people were inside. To my amazement, they all knew my name “Hi Jimmy here, hi Jimmy there.”I spotted two people, a man and a woman sitting in a corner by themselves. They seemed withdrawn, uptight and completely lost. It really stood out that these two, were different from the other people who were having a drink in. Probably they were not locals, like I was. “-Millie, who are these people, right over there? Why don’t they mingle with the others?-Oh! You mean the man and the woman sitting right there in the corner? They’re new comers. They’ve just arrived. Consequently, it’s all new to them. Someone will soon come to take care of them. No need to worry. They’ll be all right, you’ll see. C’mon, let’s have a seat over there. Right, what you‘re having, Jimmy? -A coffee. That’ll be fine. Thanks.-Waitress, two black coffees, please.”  We sat down comfortably and sipped at our coffee, before a large screen. In fact, it was a large color TV set. It appeared to be made of a strange substance, unknown to me. It’s hard to describe, but it was rather like a living substance!!! Millie stretched out her hand towards the TV set, which brought animation to the now glittering screen. At first, it appeared to give off a faint humming sound. Then, faint images became more defined. Images of what seemed to be a news bulletin. What happened next was astonishing, to say the least. “On the californian Highway 466, two cars collided. In one of the two cars were movie actor James Dean and his mechanic Rolf Weutherich. Bobby Sox Idol Jimmy dean was killed in the tragic accident. He died instantly of a broken neck. His mechanic is said to be badly injured, but alive. It is readily apparent, that movie actor James Dean was overspeeding on the Highway. According to a police patrol, shortly before the crash, he had been given caution in the form of speeding tickets. Jimmy Dean was only 24 y.o.“ I listened to the presenter intently. All of a sudden, the final tragic moments prior to my advent here, came back to my already troubled mind. I was literally astounded at the rapidity at which this took place. May be that’s the reason I didn’t even know I was dead. My conciousness became aware that I definitely left the world which I had learned to love and cling to, all too well. My mind reeled at the fact that for me the bottom line manifested itself in a life prematurely cut short. After all, that was the end result of my foolishness and recklessness. Sure, all of this caused me great confusion… I must have been catapulted out of my former body. “-Jimmy, you said you wanted to wake up. What do you think about that, ha? Now, you’ll have plenty of time to learn to master and control this stupid fascination and impulse to rev engines of fast cars. If you had made a better and wiser decision concerning your reckless driving, you wouldn’t be here among us at the young age of 24 y.o. Your accident could have been easily avoided. Unfortunately, you’ll have to live with the results of that stupid error for a while before feeling in perfect harmony with your new self and your new environment… At the present moment, you are in a transitory stage, that’s why you feel so vulnerable, angry and hurt. Hopefully, if you have the inclination, you’ll learn rapidly that life here is exciting and interesting. Subsequently, you’ll feel like making further progress to continue on your journey in this “other side of life from the living”. I know it’s a drastic change for you. But there’s little you can do about it now. You won’t be alone though; I’ll be by your side as long as it’s necessary, whenever you need it and feel like it.” Driven by desperation, I rushed out of the Happy Hour, and found myself facing the gas station opposite. The sign “Boulevard of Broken Dreams was now dripping with blood. Because of my new found unusual consciousness, I knew it was my own blood dripping down on the sidewalk. I threw myself to the floor and I screamed out as loud as I could. I did all I could to run away from it all. The wooded/area cemetry blocked my way out of the block of houses. To my horror I looked at the grave next to my mum’s. On the tombstone was written “James Dean 1931-1955”. I backed away from it and carried on running down the Boulevard trying to find a way out of this place. I finally reached the former junction, the entire blank road signs were dripping with blood, now. My blood. I cannot explain it, but I could sense it. And then faint images of what seemed like a car accident became more defined and paraded past my eyes. The central character who impaled on the steering column caught my attention. I watched as passing motorists stopped to help. A patrol car and an ambulance were called for -the same ambulance which drove by fast, twice or three times earlier on- A short time later, an ambulance crew arrived on the scene. I got closer to the wreckage and saw my horridly mangled body. A lifeless, bloody corpse. I watched the frantic efforts of the ambulance men to extricate my body. The friends who had been travelling behind me soon arrived. I desperately tried to talk to them, touch them, but in vain. They couldn’t hear or even see me. All these people were bustling about and conversing with one another. It seemed as if a movie was taking place in front of my eyes. Movie, in which I was the principal actor. Dead though. All my attempts to make my friends understand that I was standing right next to them were fruitless. At the end, the ambulance drove away, en route to the hospital. My friends -their faces bathed in tears- got back into their car and followed the ambulance. Ultimately, all these virtual images burst like a bubble. “-Well, that’s it. I’ll never wake up again. Never. I’m dead now.” I said to myself, in a resigned sort of way. I finally came to understand that my Earthly sojourn was over. I finally found out that I belonged here… I heard someone calling my name, from faraway, waving hands at me. I didn’t have to squint this time. I plainly distinguished the form and shape of my spiritual benefactress Millie. I mean Mildred, my deceased mother…                        ############################################ PS: Actually, I’d like to mention just for the record -after all these years on the other side from you- that the former James Dean is a rebel no longer. I can only hope that you guys out there will take these words to heart. But one thing for certain, I have undergone a dramatic change, since arriving here. Sadness, offtimes despair, feelings of resentment, rebellionlike tendancies, my own wrongdoings etc, no longer exist. That’s right, you heard me correctly. I look back on for, what my former life was: live fast and… But I missed out on what should have been the most important thing in my former lifespan: My “CHILD”. Yes, my child. My natural child. Oh, I’m fully aware that I’m not happy neither am I proud to make this admission! Glamor of the bright lights werre so inviting. The pursuit of fame, I found necessary to indulge in order to flatter my already inflated ego, was just an illusion. Its full effects coming back full circle to haunt me, just like a boomerang; since my advent here. The driven young man called Jimmy Dean was willing to do -and did- whatever it took to achieve fame. Fame, glitter, all these things are transitory, shallow and minus any satisfaction.They’re nothing compare to a child. Believe me, my friends and faithful fans, what I tell you is true. I had a natural kid. A girl, precisely. And may I just add that I found to my chagrin, the most and decent gestures of everyday living such as looking after my baby daughter were sadly lacking in my former life. And regrettably, I found out too late, that this was the important issue. But I was so young, so foolish, immature… I was only sixteen, when she was born. Remember, it all happened back in the late forties. Consciousness was not what is now… It must be stressed that in fact, my daughter was the best thing that happened to me. Even if I wasn’t aware of it when I was alive. But now, how will she know about the way I feel? Fortunately, my daughter, like my grandchildren was and is still blessed with intelligence. An intelligence which transcends anything I have known in my former life. Their wisdom is astonishing; they made their lives worth living. Indeed, they didn’t join the big James Dean parade, or live their lives like some mere Jimmy Dean clones or look-a-likes; strutting about on every street corner of America and showing off, like I used to do. My daughter and her family don’t look on themselves as hotshots, cool characters who have all the answers, like I thought I did. They’re not acting the bigshots… In a way, even if they’re not aware about it, they “have rehabilitated” the rebel that I was once. I’m so proud of them all!I’ll finally wind this up, by telling you that “The James Dean Saga is here to stay, perhaps in a different way (?), and will continue on both sides: there on “Earth” and “Over here”…  See’ya and bye for now. To the James Dean Girl (my beloved daughter), my friends and faithful fans.   James Dean from the grave.   September 30^th 2005.                                                            To be continued…   This work is legally protected.