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Dream #2

This is a sec­ond dream I’ve had in quite some time.

Ordi­nar­i­ly I don’t dream, and if/when I do, it’s a very bad­ly stitched series of mean­ing­less imagery that’s for­get­table, maybe embarass­ing or weird, and both.

I was in Hol­stein Park, where I once lived just across the street on Palmer street in Buck­town. There’s a strange mist thick in the air, and it looks like Michael Jack­son might just come out look­ing like a zom­bie and scream­ing ‘Thriller’. I’m in some fan­cy schman­cy paja­ma’s, the old fart kind like Hugh Hefn­er might sport. 

A mid­dle aged cou­ple near­by are walk­ing their pomeran­ian when it starts yap­ping and breaks off its leash, then comes charg­ing straight at me. “Come on!” I blurt­ed. It leaps into the air and clamps its evil lit­tle snout on my arm. I began cry­ing out in agony like it’s the most hor­ri­ble pain I’ve ever endured. Not half as bad as doing my tax­es.I fin­ger jab it then flick it off, kick­ing it into the air and it lands in a dump­ster near­by, leaps out and attacks me again.The lady is scream­ing ‘yeah! hell yeah! Go tear that asian ass up!’ and the hus­band is laugh­ing and gives a evil sneer ‘tear his balls off!’. I pull out a katana and then, dra­mat­i­cal­ly make a deft stroke, and blood splat­tered against the tree near­est me. The woman is sob­bing and the hus­band, all riled up takes out some brass knuck­les and an uzi. The woman busts out a pair of sai’s and they attack me. This Ned Flan­ders look­ing fool starts spray­ing bul­lets and I shout ‘no’ lift­ing my hands the bul­lets stop in mid-air. The hus­band shouts ‘this bas­tard just Neo’d me!’ then I flung my sword and it impaled him, straight through the neck. The woman came charg­ing and attack and I sliced her arms off with a pink light-saber. It was­n’t mine, but my super hero­ine girl­friend space princess. This lady is sob­bing and pro­fuse­ly cry­ing and won’t stop, even after smack­ing her repeat­ed­ly. Even after she says she’s alright and will be fine. ‘Wake up lady!!! Snap out of it!” I keep it up but she refus­es to cease and desist, mak­ing me angri­er than I ought to be.


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spike is an enhanced human, Chicagoan and poet/writer/visual poet (that is, artiste + designer have a love child). No, I'm not an international male model, thanks for thinking that I was. Ex Walgreens website model? Check. Super spy and underground cyber investigative journalist at random times throughout the day. Formerly the hero known as the uptown avenger (in the windy city).

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