I am awake early for a rehearsal. I slept about five hours and managed one of those intensely plotted dreams of which I retain only a fragment like a movie trailer of a woman in a high-waisted white Empire gown running through a pre-dawn or dusk the same drowned blue as her eyes; she is stumbling down an empty road with clouds hanging over the fields and as she runs her face begins to stream like water or ectoplasm, coiling and thickening the air behind her. The funny thing is that it wasn't a nightmare, but I don't know what it was. I would have thought one thing if she was running toward the sea, but she wasn't.
Links
Page Summary
Active Entries
- 1: I'm not related to anyone
- 2: You are a case of the vapours
- 3: And we're on the right side of the ground where they bury the bones
- 4: Now I feel like Kafka with a bad migraine
- 5: For when the heart's a sinking stone
- 6: Fierce as the Baltic sea
- 7: All the trees carve shards of light
- 8: Reflections coming through the radio, the telephone, the TV
- 9: I want what's true
- 10: I've been with him for seven years and now I'll lose my situation
Style Credit
- Style: Classic for Refried Tablet by
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
zvi and
Expand Cut Tags
No cut tags