The bones that drift endlessly as far as the eye can see

[sovay]

I have been having peculiar nightmares (the one about being in New York with giant ex-zombie animal carcasses rotting on all the buildings was memorably lurid. Because nothing says Waldorf-Astoria like a decapitated snake half the size of a city block draped across the roof) for the last several weeks solid. Last night I dreamed I was cast by a Japanese director in a retelling of a folktale about a drowned girl. I think it was some kind of subconscious-bastardized version of Urashima Taro; in the first scene, the man who was probably the other protagonist was to find me washed up on the beach, rolled over in nets of kelp and Hel-faced with white sand. The makeup was fantastic. Then I drowned for real halfway through the shoot and spent the rest of the dream as a corpse with a sharkskin crust of barnacles growing on my skin. You come through, brain.

Comments

[sovay]

Now I just feel embarrassed for sharing the story in the first place.

I'm just glad you're no longer homeless in Seattle. It would make the logistics of this conversation rather more difficult.

Which phrase had my late-night riffing brain wondering whether ex-zombie because dead or a priori ex-zombie, as if whoever or whatever dispatched the snake brought it to its senses first. Something pleasantly tzu-jan za-zen about that.

I don't know. If it recurs, I'll try to find out.