| dewy decimal |
2004-10-25 - 2:54 p.m.
Panic attacks, panic attacks!!! All of my insecurities are ganging up on me again. They want my lunch money but, gee-golly, I'm broke-dick. All I need is to believe that I am a capabale person. All I need is someone to come save me, even though I know I don't have the right to ask because I brought myself to these here parts.
Last night in my sleep I was so up. I dreamt I was back in school and that it was the last day of class and I was dumbfounded when the Professor handed me our finals. Time was moving at a livid pace so I ran outside and took to the sky which was damp in oranges. I grazed above the treetops that were spread over a great prarie till I hovered over the Sea of Japan with its waters of unquanitifiable depth. I seemed to understand that beneath the torn and slapping surface there lived enorous serpents.
As I looked further out I could see the ports belonging to Southeast Asian Maritimers. Their docks were stacked with trading goods, lined with specialty shops. Bundled bamboo and jarred snake bones. But in the harbors there were only a few naval freighters. I landed somewhere on one of these ships and thought about how strange it seemed to have a boat whose deck was so near the water. When I looked up again we were near an expansive and desolate shore. The sky was still ominous and rusty-orange. An enormous building ran along the coast for as far as the eye could see. Piles of urban debris were being wasted away in the salty air. The building had no windows, it was in ruins. The depth and height of the building was nothing that I could compare it to. It's size was more massive than all of Manhattan, containing no streets, no alleys, just a thick, dilapidated building in which I could not suspect that life was capable of existing within. To me it was a dusty hollow skeleton veilled with shadow and bone, carved in quiet.
Next thing I know I'm in the city and behind the infinite building there are streets, cut-throat avenues. I'm driving and have no idea where I really am. When I park I go to the rear of my vehicle which, it so happens, is a food wagon. What on earth I'm selling, I'm not sure. All I could sense was that death in all of it's supernatural forms was roaming outside. Sleepily, they craved what I was soliciting. Amongst all of the wandering people, I had the strange feeling that it was only I who was of the living.