I have messed up dreams.
This is nothing new. Sometimes they scare me, sometimes they confuse me and occasionally
I can interpret them.
This example is noteworthy
for one reason.
I foolishly left the cap off of this potent solvent
while I slumbered
Suffice to say
I do not remember much.
There was a bright orange cat
, wearing sunglasses
This cat was sullen
, until prescription eye wear
rimmed with silver
was available. Then we all rejoiced
in its joy.
A battle to the death
in a supermarket
Except, depending on which lethal kung fu
move was being employed, we would shrink and grow.
Falling into a kaleidoscope
Added to all this (and more), my addled
mind composed a song.
It was oddly catchy: half a wry
look at the Clinton Administration
(hold the smut
), while in the second half it rapidly became nonsense
and yelling (extra smut, hold the olives
I wish I had written it down, but my highest priority
was getting fresh air
Update: Sometime October 16, 2001
Due to the benefits of breathing air that won't ravage vast amounts of ones grey matter, I have just remembered another part to this dream:
I'm a part of some kind of group, and we're standing on a stage inside a hall. Everybody seems to have an instrument except for me, some groupies and a pair of conjoined twins (joined Chang & Eng style - by a small cord of skin).
What struck me as odd was not the fact that they consisted of brother and sister, but how they got dressed (we were dressing on stage you see).
They seemed to have no trouble actually getting their shirts on, but could only get them off the rack of available clothes by flailing and attacking them.
It also seemed I could only find a jacket with unusually short and tight sleeves.
It seemed that my contribution to the performance was to stand centre stage, until the crowd rushed us and the concert devolved into a brawl.