fish head eating flesh that flakes oft the eyeballs like shells. I eat the flesh that gleams brown, striped and appealing to my eyes, but old ladies shove me, snatching the supple meat for themselves. I ask for the head, but the head protrudes like a helmet, slipping off the inner skull in a way that isn't right. the eyeballs are empty, free of virtuous humour.
the silver plate of fish is laid below a domed church of red, blue, and yellow tiles with stilted ceilings. arguing with my parents- I shun the doctrine, and am, by some silent rule, shunned to an unspeakable, obscure crowd. I stomp out in frustration with my brother and follow the black cat into the stone tower.
tower ascending into infinity. it is narrow and vertical, with a spiral of stone steps suspended in mid air winding up into a ceiling too high to be discerned. I follow Blacky up up up into the heavens, swinging on invisible trapeze-akin ropes in order to get higher faster. It is effortless; an easy suspension of gravity, an easily looked over feat. at the top, a rooftop of red tiles lurches over the landscape of Norway. chill, fresh air opens into the throat like the call of a trumpet. I breathe in softly.
riding bicycles attached to hot air balloons with two other deserters (?). we peddle hard into the skies, fleeing the church authorities who are so adamant on chasing us. holding hands, we fly higher into the upper regions of the atmosphere.
mid-way through, a demon of hairy beard and looming, grey presence approaches. I prod my companion to cycle faster into a thick, dense cloud. We peddle through up and above into the thinner atmosphere. At the top, a sign stating "all roads end here" greets us. we are forced to descend. weighed down by gravity, we fall over fields endless and far-reaching. by some strange coincidence, we land in the same church of red, blue and yellow tiles. however, it is empty now, deserted of all followers. we return home.
being cat now. I am guest, with a stranger who is adamant to please me and a more proper friend. I smile gleefully, steal the white-fleshed sushi, dip it in sauce grained with ginger and gobble it. I pout, stating it tastes just like the fish slices in Singapore and not like sushi at all. the process continues as I sample 2 other kinds of fish. I have adopted a trickster's skin wholly, and am constantly prancing about impatiently with a hunger and taste insatiable by any earthly means. the stranger resembles a reluctant human priest as he grouchily delivers me my birthright.
erm, other persons and things were involved, but I have forgotten them -_-
sorry for fragmented, badly written delivery. haven't written dreams out for some time and a part of me just battles against it out of sheer laziness.