Friday, July 15, 2011


one of the best ive ever felt... colors were mostly browns and copper.

im in a large open building. it resembles and old mall, shaped in a star almost with tall ceilings and small doors leading to other rooms stemming from the large halls. im walking alone, and trying to find someone. im coming to a busy corner of the building, i see people milling around one of the doors. i look inside and see what appears to be a tiny museum, small items in cases of glass sit on white pedestals and people sit in chairs watching a large screen at the back of the room. i walk past this room and go further down the large hall, which is getting darker. now i have people beside me, walking near me. they feel familiar ans safe, so i never look back. we come to a door at the very end of the hallway and it is partially boarded up. slipping past the boards we enter a cool, darkish, large room. it is covered in cobwebs, but scattered all over are statues and figures, carved from stone or set in brass and copper. they are breathtaking, reminiscent of spanish and italian masters, i gasp and try not to touch them. the people i bring in are talking fast, weve just made a discovery, and it feels so good
in and out i come back in and im sitting in a circle next to a man who seems to be a cowboy. hes dusty and strong, mustached and wearing boots and good leather. he smells amazing, like a man. we are sitting indian style in the center of a museum style lit room. low and soft. people are all around us, sitting or standing, some are drinking or smoking, talking. in front of this man and me there is a copper antique cup, sitting on a bed of brass beads in a bowl. its old and i feel pulled to it. scattered around near the others feet and legs are other antique pieces, but these are tarnished horribly with white and blue sludge. its weird. a man comes up and tries to touch the cup in front of us. i lean over and whisper to my cowboy "its their skin, their oils, they are ruining our things"... so the cowboy pulls his gun and start shooting everyone in the room. i try to yell and tell them to run, but none of them do.
standing in front of an older empty house. from the street it looks sad, yellow and white. im with turkey and im not sure where he came from. we go into the house and start looking through all the rooms. hes standing very close to me and im just talking, asking him questions and telling him i have missed him in my life so much. im in a closet reaching up to the top shelf and pulling down boxes full of comforting things that belong to other people. boxes of yarn, sweaters, vases and tiny vials. they all smell slightly musky sweet. turkey takes my hand and i never look at him. i walk into the closet and push aside the hanging clothes and find myself in a small bedroom of sorts, with thick beige carpeting and no furniture. the room is dark and only lit by a small high window near the ceiling of the this tiny place. there is a white board nailed to the lower part of the back wall and something is written on it, but i cant read it. there is a hole in the center of the white board. it makes me nervous. turkey is telling me we need to find some coloring books. i agree.

waking up is harder and harder.

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