Dream Nineteen, Parts II-V.

The remainder of the dream was fairly episodic, at least by comparison.

Recounting this should be smooth....

II.                 I’d awoken to discover that parts of my bedroom had been re-arranged,

Ostensibly beneficently. Yet it was not long after this that I found my self in self-admiration in the mirror,

And I soon wiped the grin off of my own face, for I was missing hair. I found my mother promptly. She confessed, without apology, that she had cut my hair whilst I was sleeping. I’m reminded of last night, I.A.L. I called the proper time to take the chicken out of the oven, but father still insisted on being the one to cut it, even though he had been absent at its being-withdrawn.

Yet I still managed to treat my curiosity by tearing off one of the hen’s tails. True to form it tastes like ass. Within the dream, my mother had cut my hair from the back, for I was sleeping face-down.

III.               Creature Com-

I was furious. Soon afterwards,

If memory serves, Pumpkin got out through the front door. I saw him dart right,

And I hoped that our visitors had not left the gate open.

Forts: (_)

True to form, they had. I ran with futility after my dog-

Friend, who was anthropomorphic now at least in his speed. He ran past an open garage. A car pulled out onto the drive-way.

As it passed I saw Pumpkin waiting for me upon the lawn,

His eyes a stern gaze. Running out in front of the red Jeep, I grabbed and all but pocketed my [beloved] Pekingese.

I could begin to interpret these last two episodes here, but time is essential. Whilst analysis remains important, it can wait, especially if what my heart suggests is true.

This Sunday shall be easy-

Going, but productive, so I’ll go easy on the analysis and produce a swift account of what had followed…

IV.              d

How I ended up breaking bad I can’t recount, for I cannot recall. But twilight found me any way in hiding. I saw a young man, Hispanic-

Looking, not unlike Mike Peterson, pushing a lawn-

Mower – the non-electric kind.

I walked up to him cautiously,

Discreetly letting on in some thing like a whisper that I needed cash and would be able to work for him. He had me take over the yards. I was taken aback. I was, after all, a fugitive. Why should I operate now in the open?

V.                 MEANWHILE, an alter-ego, older,

Was pulling off for our cause a sort of undercover, indoor heist. He used his phone for reference; it was a modern piece of technology that Kept him connected. By way of a chink in the proverbial cyber-wall,

He saw that he was not the only game-player on our grid.

Some one was playing cards. That one was me. The scene shifted back to my character. I’d given up the yard-work for the time being; the Hispanic guy was still out and about, due back a few hours later. I was in-

Doors, playing cards with an other youngster. I was going to gamble my way to get the money, or if that failed there’d be time to now the Lawns for the Hispanic.

Which was the REAL gamble?

I would not Know.

Dm.A.A.