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silvers of (passing) dreams

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Apr. 19th, 2009 | 01:49 pm

pardon. these are all jumbled up, because I lost the originals/did not record them properly/only have a ghost memory of some of them :P
Flashes are basically passing 'images' that flash through my mind before I go to sleep...

11/3
flash #1
checkered baby dancing through a black, white and red tiled floor.
flash #2
children playing flutes, marching down an underground highway. They walk like wind-up toys, faces illuminated eerily by the bright, golden tunnel lamps.

12/3
grey skies, and an island with an aging, wooden house.
its entrance is marked by totem-like statues, and winds constantly sweep through its empty interiors, making the walls wail like possessed children. people had worshiped ancient gods here once-upon-a-time, but now the house lies empty, reeking only of the salt, sea and something other- perhaps the oppressive ancient anger of some forgotten god...
running outside to an English garden, where a pasty stone fountain lies in the midst of diverging paths. I flee from this island, away from the friends I had entered it with.
after: the wolf villain flies, his paws in front of his eyes in a gesture of pain. we fly with him over seas under grey skies heavy with rain, hands over our eyes. this has some significance, of which I have forgotten...

18/4
River, a boat. Taxi by plane to a land of green, green earth and the occasional hill.
A Ferris wheel lies on a tower on a tall green hill. We must get there.
old, crumbling corridors made of stone, with the occasional gaping window proclaiming sky. corridors are claustrophobic, with sharp endings and sudden turns. a friend of red, red hair. she stands on a window, her hair staining the dirt concrete.
(we never get to the Ferris wheel, which mysteriously disappears upon our reaching our destination)

19/4
Sea, by harbour. Moving house.
Ida and her elder sister. Going out to the portico to see the moon. "I prefer looking at her through the window," Ida says.
Going out, I see what she means: the portico is caged by wooden beams from the top and the wooden floor sinks into a sudden depth so that when you reach the end, you fall suddenly into space. Beryl grabs me by the hands and helps me up, telling me this is why they are always careful not to wander too far.
Lying on the wooden floor reconciled, Blacky comes to me. She sinks into my arms, her body molding into mine. She rubs a warm cheek against mine, and I sink into a memory of home...

root | whisper, wind |

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