(no subject)
Nov. 7th, 2004 10:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jack_babalonI was back in Brooklyn, alone and waiting on the platform for the F train to come.It's been about twenty years since i've been here, and I feel terribly cold. I light up a cigarette but a good drag or two in and an old woman (who looks like a turtle made out of layers of old coats) starts shouting at me to "Put it out!Put it out!". I try to say something, but she shambles down the platform muttering curses at me. I suddenly remembered that this was the same station I lost my Boba Fett action figure, and just thinking that I see it on the ground next to me. I go to pick it up, but my Dad tells me to leave it there. I ask why but he just shakes his head and asks me for a cigarette. I tell him I can't because of the old woman. He smiles at me and says it's okay because the world has already ended and we're just waiting for it to catch up with us. I ask why, and he just points down the tracks and when I follow his finger I can see them- thousands of horses running out of the mist down the train tracks towards us, but for some reason they don't make a sound- I can hear a train though, the shriek of metal brakes and roaring of an engine. It starts to deafen me. I light my Dad's cigarette for him and he tell's me something- but I can't hear it over the noise. I turn around and the horses are closer now- and I'm scared and I don't know why.
I hate dreams.
I hate that 1/2 minute of laying in your bed when it's over, wondering how the hell you ended up here all of a sudden and then it hits you that none of it was real, just the brain processing chemicals & electricity while you sleep producing an accidental theater- stray memorys adlib on the stage of buried emotions.
I'm the only one awake in the house so far- the soft thud of me keying these words and the hum of the appliances the only sound. Winter sky outside the door windows, a sea of unraked leaves in the lawn, the green moss clinging for life on a rock, the wiltering plants swaying in the morning breeze, the rust on an iron chair worn proud like a war wound, a ceramic bowl buried in dirt waiting to be rescued, small little birds looking for breakfast in the dying grass- i'm still tired and the details around me offer a hint of a meaning I can't explain. I need to get out to the store and score some smokes, a taste of the Georgia November air should clear the head up a bit. Failing the nicotine will do.
Heh. I promised I wouldn't do one of these early morning post-dream posts. Sorry.
Go on then... tell me about your night, your frustrated heartbreaks, your horny compromises, your insights on surviving the system, tell me about your dreams please, tell me so I can sit here quietly and listen and maybe forget mine.
I hate dreams.
I hate that 1/2 minute of laying in your bed when it's over, wondering how the hell you ended up here all of a sudden and then it hits you that none of it was real, just the brain processing chemicals & electricity while you sleep producing an accidental theater- stray memorys adlib on the stage of buried emotions.
I'm the only one awake in the house so far- the soft thud of me keying these words and the hum of the appliances the only sound. Winter sky outside the door windows, a sea of unraked leaves in the lawn, the green moss clinging for life on a rock, the wiltering plants swaying in the morning breeze, the rust on an iron chair worn proud like a war wound, a ceramic bowl buried in dirt waiting to be rescued, small little birds looking for breakfast in the dying grass- i'm still tired and the details around me offer a hint of a meaning I can't explain. I need to get out to the store and score some smokes, a taste of the Georgia November air should clear the head up a bit. Failing the nicotine will do.
Heh. I promised I wouldn't do one of these early morning post-dream posts. Sorry.
Go on then... tell me about your night, your frustrated heartbreaks, your horny compromises, your insights on surviving the system, tell me about your dreams please, tell me so I can sit here quietly and listen and maybe forget mine.