And another…this dream I’ve seen before and I remember it, I was trapped inside a locked house that laundered money, the sham was they held and hosted parties, no one ever remembers, the missing people flyers were stapled in their safe room, but someone else was there, others were in the room, who the fuck were they? She said “this happened before, otherwise I wouldn’t have had the money I’ve got. We made it out of this, and we told ourselves what happened and how to save what we find, especially the money, so when we grow up we have it, and when this happens again we will be prepared. There is a half dug hole in the floor from previous escape, and then I finally see the doors, the large animal they’ve got for a guard. I swear the rott is part lion. Maybe it’s a lion who knows. And the roof, this is the part I forgot last time, the safe room is above the place, and I was going to stab through the ceiling to look for it this time. I saw the busted window I used last time, the hole in the floor I’d broken and dug out from. But not the ceiling. The animal was pounding at the door so I never had time. I still didn’t.

And before this, as I was believing things were ok, the people I loved were in this party room, but things were crooked. Things weren’t quite right. What were you saying, I can’t remember. And then the Red Death. First on the phone, then we had to speak, and she kept hesitating, she fluttered her eyes and was unsure. But I knew, it didnt matter this time. It was all a dance, and I stopped the music. She told me how horrible I am, again, but stopped me as I walked away, and as she tried explaining the story, I remember hearing it before. It’s too far gone now, but there is someone, a lady, who believes I’m evil, sees it, and refuses to let her near me again. The lady however, refuses ever to speak to me and I’ve no clue who she is. Everytime I ask to meet her it is refused. I’m held at bay by magic words from an unseen person who has convinced her I’m not who I say I am. Circular logic I say. And while talking further, I drift, hearing lies, excuses, and even retellings of our most magical times, and I’m writing on the ceiling. It becomes almost like stop motion, or time lapse, as I’m scrawling words illegible only to me, and then my movements become artistic, colorful, painted even…and how I wish I could remember what I’d just written on that ceiling.

It’s all fading again, my head is aching and eyes are fighting me, this has indeed been a very strange night.