The Letter 'F'
Happy Campers.
I [f]ell asleep.
It was a Tuesday night, around eleven. I was laying on my huge, squishy stomach. I have prettier words [f]or it, I'm sure. But those hold such imagery!
Here's an f-word [f]or you: Fat.
Eleven was early... Dreams always begin around two.
As such things go, the details o[f] how it began are [f]oggy... it was daytime, I know. And sunshine-y and I was on a train out west. To somewhere magical with [f]orests and trees and shit like that. Maybe, like, Michigan or Wyoming.
There are no trees in Texas.
The train moved over the land with dreamy, creamy, hallucinative speed. A bullet train? Le TGV!
Beautiful Bosnian girls squeaked around me, whose names will be care[f]ully protected (Verica, Ema, Darija, Natalia and Lara) and the typical boys tried to impress them. I think I was reading that one voulme of Sandman for the millionth time. The Kindly Ones.
You know, where that kid gets taken and his mom goes wack and meets the [F]ates?
I wanted more than anything to be Morpheus/Dream/Milord Shaper's lover. Or at least his [f]reind.
Actually, I still do.
And as in dreams, the scene changed. We were bunking in this dormitory all the sudden. With white walls and and varying blankets: blue-yellow-pink. Vomit!
My [f]eet stayed, [f]irmly planted on the [f]loor. Pink it was.
I didn't linger.
It was a Tuesday night, around eleven. I was laying on my huge, squishy stomach. I have prettier words [f]or it, I'm sure. But those hold such imagery!
Here's an f-word [f]or you: Fat.
Eleven was early... Dreams always begin around two.
As such things go, the details o[f] how it began are [f]oggy... it was daytime, I know. And sunshine-y and I was on a train out west. To somewhere magical with [f]orests and trees and shit like that. Maybe, like, Michigan or Wyoming.
There are no trees in Texas.
The train moved over the land with dreamy, creamy, hallucinative speed. A bullet train? Le TGV!
Beautiful Bosnian girls squeaked around me, whose names will be care[f]ully protected (Verica, Ema, Darija, Natalia and Lara) and the typical boys tried to impress them. I think I was reading that one voulme of Sandman for the millionth time. The Kindly Ones.
You know, where that kid gets taken and his mom goes wack and meets the [F]ates?
I wanted more than anything to be Morpheus/Dream/Milord Shaper's lover. Or at least his [f]reind.
Actually, I still do.
And as in dreams, the scene changed. We were bunking in this dormitory all the sudden. With white walls and and varying blankets: blue-yellow-pink. Vomit!
My [f]eet stayed, [f]irmly planted on the [f]loor. Pink it was.
I didn't linger.