Some mornings you wake up, you can't remember where you are. I think I have a virus. Like computers get.
I dreamed there was a big oil furnace under my house leaking oil into the dirt. Lots. House creaking, racking, unstable, flames from little and big burners everywhere. This was a very complicated furnace, parts everywhere, like assembling automobiles. Tiers and racks and rows of different size flames, at the end of pipes. But oily. Drippy. In different areas, rooms. Yellow, and blue, and some orange. So that meant the air or flames weren't quite clean. I'm not surprised, with all the dirt dust, but a lot of it was oily. Some of the nozzles on the thinner pipes might need cleaning, as the flames were not singular, more compressed-triplicate; roseate. Took up the whole basement with black sticky pipes and pulleys and gooey burners; leaking like a sieve. Windows down there I never knew were there, because they opened into the dirt. There were boxy glass cases with acid in the bottom, those old thick-glass car battery cases. These were clearish with bluish tinged acid; most of the ones I've seen were that translucent lime color, like absinthe. But these were that white-turquoise, opalescent, like absinthe after the sugar and flame. I spilled one out, trying to understand it; almost got it on me; maybe a little, but at least I had my good work boots on. And more holes in the jeans, who cares. There was also an unusual specie of......uhm, I don't know what, large humanoid cat lizard, living in the coal or ash bin-room. I woke one of them up, accidentally, exploring, (they're camouflaged-in), scared it, and another one came running up to help it. I think it was the boy, not that it matters. They looked pretty similar. Scary at first. Way different.
While I was washing up, amongst the lush leaves of the nile lilies stored in the bathroom, I thought, I could be changing my mind on this animal thing. Animals might want to be eaten. I saw these letters. Like animals were telling me, but I don't think they were: eat me. eat meat. The last two letters, at, are just for advertising. You add it, the advertising, if you need to. If you're a restaurant or food stand. It's ready-to-go for that. The message was clarifying this; clearing it up. Like a revelation, they wanted to clear up; of back in history, that somebody had left out a space, and that's how they got eat meat, but it was really eat me at.
[I told Penni, "I think Red Chinese is a colorful language." She said, "I don't speak any Chinese."
Is she crazy or what.] |
