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TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile


04.10.04, saturday morning

This morning, I dreamt that suited-men-turned-monsters beheaded little old ladies on spot-lit abandoned streets, while an invisible viewer stage-whispered, Look out, look out!

Then, before a coughing fit interrupted, I dreamt that I tried to lock an entryway that had three iron doors.

Due to the peculiar lock system, I could only fasten shut one door, so that door had to be judged the sturdiest. Upon the decision that the closest one was flimsiest and that I should lock the furthest door, a large tabby ran out between my legs into the very dark suburban night where monsters in suits roamed.




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