Dream Journal Fifty.

            Last night was strange.

            It was set in this neighbourhood.

I had been charged with a task, as though I were a reluctant member of a team, operating alone.

 

I would become side-tracked. I gave up on the assignment.I preferred the company of Maria.

 

Anthony Riccio was in the dream.

 

Something happened.I had paid visit to some house down the street. The house was occupied by the family of a well-to-do friend of mine. He would be embarrassed by my  visits but accommodate them.

 

Part of the dream had me descend the street at twilight, in transit to the high school. Isaw a young girl who lookedfamiliar goingf to join a procession of high schoolstudents.

 

I took part in this procession.I returnedfrom the high school come nightfall.

 

 

By the end of the dream,therewas a ‘misunderstanding with the police’ outside my house, at nightfall.I had been on my way back from either the procession or, more probably, my friend’s house to find the cop cars waiting for me.

Anthony had somehow been involved.

 

The reason I chose to give up on the Task was that I kept getting lost in the buildings of my neighbours’ houses, delightfully but frighteningly.

 

In a nighttime momet suspended in time, I played with Maria on the front lawn. There were only a few lights from the neigh-bouring houses.

 

 

I  was the Joker.I was driving about,lost in the suburbs.I was in a white van.

            I had just fled a shopping mall wherein there was a zombie apocalypse.

 

I had one hostage in the back of my white van. He was an anonymous every man.He was behind the grated wall separating the back from the front of the vehicle.

 

At one point, I turned around in the driver’s seat, with a flame thrower in my hand, and either willingly or unwillingly set fire to his face.

 

The car was still moving.I flipped over and crashed, upside-down.

Crawling out to find myself at the neck of a familiar cul-de-sac on Avenida Sivrita, a tinge of morning light tinting the scene, I found my victim getting to his feet.  The face had been effaced, leaving a cinder-gray zombie without visage.

 

He seemed offput by my offense to him. He would have rather, I presume, saved someface.

 

The man and I struck up an uneasy agreement.I could not trust,with certainty, that he would not betray me, but/so I took him on as an accomplice.

 

My distrust grew,Eventually I hid from him in a  house.I hid in the topmost basement.

 

I think that I might havereturned to find him,but I did not r ealise that he had squealed to the cops in the interrim.

 

 

I was my ego again.I was playing with my sister.A white vanpassed us by.A young man withoutaface asked us for directions.

 

It would  be a little while later that I would come up the hill to find a cop car outside my house, waiting for me.

 

                                                            dm.A.A.