Dream #076 Chased

A boy is running. A man and a woman are chasing him. He climbs a hill strewn with loose rocks and stones. His size three feet slip as he climbs. His breathing is rapid; his lungs ache with every step.

His two pursuers are gaining; a man and woman in long coats that flap in the wind like capes. They want something from him. Wait… that’s not right. They want something from inside him; an unknown power.

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Dream #142 The foxwolf

I’m in a house and I’m moving toward one of the front doors. I’m not sure why there are two front doors but I open the one on the right and what I see horrifies me.

The room beyond is a wooden hut with hay on the floor. A vast cloud of flies buzz angrily around the middle of the room. Beneath them is a dead animal. It has the head of a fox but its body is huge, more like a wolf and its fur is dark with blood.

I slam the door shut.

 

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Dream #131: Dinosaur dreams

I’m lying on my front with thick grass and plant life all around me. It’s hot and sticky. I look up and see high trees with a thick canopy that obscures the sky. I move forward slowly, dragging my body by the elbows. I have to stay quiet.

I glance behind me at my team. They follow closely their assault rifles ready. They wear army fatigues the colour of the jungle and their faces are painted black and green. I realise I am dressed the same. And in my hands is a rifle.

 

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Dream #125 Saving the boy

I’m walking through a world in ruins. Disease has ravaged humanity; one single disease that’s wiped out most of the human race. There is a quarantine area that spans 4 zones. These zones are the size of small countries where those that have the disease live in slums and squalor. Outside the zone the few unaffected live in relative comfort.

Each zone is a different stage of the disease with zone four being for those in the last few months before death. People are forced to go into zone one if they contract the illness. They are moved from each zone as the disease slowly kills them. Nobody wants to move down the zones but the others that live there force them to for fear of their own illness worsening. This makes the zones dangerous and violent.

 

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The Voices

The Voices in my head.

The Voices begin with a capital letter. The Voices are not pets. The Voices are not my friends. The Voices do not surrender to me; my mind surrenders to them.

They have their own individual consciousness and they live inside me like parasites who feed on my experiences, feelings and thoughts.

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The Sesame Street story

Puppets. I have a story about puppets.

I forget which birthday it was. Somewhere in my late teens anyway. My friend bought me and a few others tickets to see a live show of Sesame Street at the Edinburgh Playhouse. Why, you may ask, would five grown men want to go and see a live Sesame Street show? Well I have to admit that, even though I don't touch the stuff now, at the time I was a stoner and liked nothing better that a few joints and an amusing episode of Sesame Street. And so we when the live show was announced around the time of my birthday, it was a no brainer.

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Her laugh...

Her laugh grates me. A rolling giggle of little squeals escapes the thousands of others gathered together in her tiny pig mouth. The laughter spews from her face without concern or weight. It floats through the air lifeless and devoid of intent. She laughs at anything; even silence. For silence is the evidence that she has nothing to say and therefore those around her might suspect that she is dumb, so she pollutes the air with her staccato titters to fill the void that she fears will give her away. Silence is her enemy. Silence is proof that behind that pretty pig face is an empty shell thinking nothing but the nervous fears of an insecure self-absorbed waif who wants only to be loved.

I for one adore her.

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Grubb says...

Things I’ve said recently that make me (possibly) a dick:

I don’t hate her, I just hate her face.

I’d rather bathe in my own vomit than go on a date with her.

I don’t really give a shit. (Repeat)

I don’t care what you think. (Repeat)

I wouldn’t sleep with her for practice.

There’s a dude that looks like he enjoys a good mirror.

Examples of chumpery #21

A while back I met a girl in a bar. She was small, Irish and kind of cute. Despite my worst chat and offensive humour this girl decided I was worthy enough of an invite back to a party. I wasn't really that keen but there was promise of booze and I didn't want my night to end. Giving me little choice, she pulled me into a taxi that her friends had flagged down.

 

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