Dreams, lots of them - troubled ones. A succession of
tableaux in which I was attacking people I cared for, and hurting myself in the
process. There was a flooded grocery store that nobody could enter, and policemen
patrolling the streets in red baize uniforms.
There was a jewellery box in which I knew there to be two
precious diamonds, all that was left of a lifetime searching for the best of
precious stones. I opened the lid and they were gone, so I wondered. Had I
simply imagined them; had the box been empty all along? Had they been stolen
overnight? Or had I mislaid them, and should I set about searching? I still don’t
know.
This post isn’t meant to inform, entertain or provoke any
general reaction. It’s just that old device for easing the short circuit.
The postman came and went twenty minutes ago. It set my
neighbour's dogs barking and they haven’t stopped yet. It’s getting on my
nerves.
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