More Vivid Images

Broken dreams again last night... mostly crisp images with a backstory I don't quite understand. There's an undertone, something at the tip of my subconscious.

The ancient carousel in an abandoned amusement park at night. The lights come on, the music starts to play, the horses go 'round and 'round. One of the horses comes alive, bleeding everywhere, shrieking and I rush to it. Somehow I soothe it and he let's me lay on his back forever as the carousel goes 'round and 'round.

I'm curled up in the sun-dappled shade of a dark purple tree with red leaves. A butterfly flutters passed and I open one eye lazily and watch it pass. My cats, my former cats, lounge about me partly human in a way - Alice, Billy, Salem, Sassy, Gabrielle, Peaches - even my old cat Rascal. We're just laying there and Billy tosses me an apple. I bite into it and butterflies burst from my hand and scatter towards the sun.

I walk into an old abandoned theatre. The gold-bronze paint is chipping, the red velvet seats and curtains are moth eaten, there's a picture playing on the screen that's really on a stage. Garbage and some debris littered everywhere. In the middle of the theatre, sitting calmly with his arm languidly resting on the back of the seat next to him, is Nigel. Words exchanged, not sure what, but it makes me grin. I sit next to him and watch whatever's playing. I know the movie that was playing was weird as all hell and scared me at one point... but it was a romance?

I'm walking through a winter wonderland. Hills and hills of diamond snow. I pause by a white tree with beautiful blue leaves. I'm following a trail of black feathers through the hills of snow and through the snow storms without any hesitation or any words spoken.

Martin's tattooing me but not with a tattoo machine. He's etching the design into my spine with a big black feather. The tip is burning brightly and the fire around it changes colours as he needs it to - blue, black, red and purple. The damned walls are talking and joking as usual. I can see myself in the mirror, Martin behind me with his big black feathered wings.

I come home and Lisa's baked all these different kind of cakes... I mean PILES AND PILES of baked goods all over the kitchen and living room. KC painting on rice scrolls while the cats are telling her stories of their exploits. I don't even bother asking any questions. Lisa hands me a glass of milk and we start talking about taking a road trip.