December 11, 2010

  • I had terrible dreams.


    illustration by Alec Strang

    I was kneeling on the floor, scrubbing at the base of some table; it must have been one of those old desks, with a low platform for storage. I noticed a few ants. I pushed it back to discover hundreds of them piled, ant fashion, into a groove on the floor. They were tiny and hard, flesh pink, shiny and anemic-looking - like pale roe, only frantically, senselessly alive. I recoiled, was about to find some way to kill them, when I noticed that they seemed to be moving back and forth to a spot still covered. I pushed back the table again to reveal a jagged hole in the floor as big as my hand. I leaned forward and peered inside.

    Just a few inches below the floor surface hung three or four sacs - like cocoons - filled with ants. Five or six inches across, their surfaces seethed and roiled, bloodless, pulsing organs. Suddenly, one of them dropped to the sub-floor with a popping sound. The membrane split and the insects spilled out. 

    I decided to douse them in kerosene and set them on fire.

    I woke up, repulsed.

    It's no wonder my dreams are disturbing; lately my life is charmed. I don't know why, but it's the way my brain works. When I'm miserable my dreams are respite - idyllic, uplifting. When things are going well they are ghoulish.

    Just this week we found an apartment and I discovered I have money in the bank (I'm terrible at keeping track of those things). My ancient work PC was unexpectedly replaced with a shiny new one. This morning I found and bought an honest-to-god Art Deco cabinet at the Salvation Army for $60 (see photo blog). My mild-mannered boss at the shop stood up for me with a bullying customer and one of the managers at the office sent me a style guide so I can take their editor's test (which, if they have work for me, will double my pay). C has found money on the ground twice and received a government tax rebate he didn't know was coming. All that's left is for the cat to lay a golden egg.

    But while I wait, I will dream of slaughter and plagues.
    g.

     

     

     

Comments (3)

  • disturbing. worry that metamorphosis is overrated?

  • I've always liked hearing about your dreams. Whenever you describe them, whether they're lovely or terrifying, they create very interesting images in my head. I don't dream that way at all - my dreams are often very closely related to my daily life and, if they're not, they're a very strange collage of random images and events (me fighting off both dinosaurs and the Italian mafia in the basement of a convenience store, for instance). They're not exactly boring, but they're never very visually cohesive.

    The cabinet is beautiful. Please, please take pictures of the new place someday. I'd love to see it.

    h.

    (Yelena Bryksenkova drawings are wonderful - her blog makes me very, very happy.)

  • @sixacross - 

    Well, then, you will have to VISIT. This time - for once - I will actually have enough space for you to stay here. (And by "here" I mean with me!) How awesome is that?

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