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.