Dream
The road lies across my eyes, left to right, as I float along, sideways, seeing barricades of police and military passing by, stopping cars, big-rigs, pedestrians, clowns, the mixture of all society leaking over each dam, each obstacle in the road, flowing, leaning, squeezing their rubber necks and bodies through every hole, every crevice, as the road stretches on toward some action, some imminence, the nature of which is a musing question that dazzles me while the colorful organic blocks of activity ebb and flow, the cars, tanks, now helicopters moving toward the vanishing point to the left of my view of the road; passing so close right next to me, the fanning, flashing, blades of propellers feel like they may cut through my flesh, and the boxes of people, dripping at the corners, stacked flatly in two dimensions, dripping upwards at the corners toward the left-vanishing road, and the horizon, feeling like interwoven threads of mountain ranges draped across my shoulders, fields of high, green grasses framing the road under me, being trampled by hordes behind ropes and barricades, like a golf match, a riot, a parade with Ferris wheels, fire-crackers, ambulances, hundreds of them sprinkled throughout the mess and muck as I float up…and then I’m sitting in a plane, next to my step-brother Max, staring at a tumbler in my hand that I drop, and as it falls it turns into a rat with top hat and cane, it wants to buy me a drink, as I sit, next to Max, in my row of seats that have their backs to the windows of the plane, except the seat to my right, which the back faces me, and as I look down at the slit between cushion and back, out slips a music player with ear-buds attached, into my ear I hear The Prodigy, the intro is clear, “I’ve got the poison, I’ve got the remedy, I’ve got the pulsating, rhythmical, remedy…”, there's a pig in the overhead bin, it contentedly chews straw that breaks off in bits, floating down to the floor, which by now is no floor, any more, but clouds, then the night sky, moon and stars, so I think where’s that rat, I feel like a gin…