Black dogs market teeth escape shoes

I was cleaning out a desk and I had a sneaking suspicion it had old food. I lifted a layer of papers and there was old bologna slices of pepperoni and rancid white shredded cheese. It stank. I cleaned it all away. Yuck!  I came around to the desk and there was a woman offering me her husband’s teeth. She was striding somewhere on the second level so I met someone familiar but not quite sure it was Michel. He seems to fit the essence of the person though. He offered me the teeth explaining how they could file the ridges down. They looked too big for my mouth. I took them, and as I walked away I wondered how I would get from where I was to the appointment in Philadelphia on the 11th. There was somewhere south I had to go too. I thought momentarily of the time I used to drive up and down the eastern seaboard in my $50 dollar car. Then I would drive six hours alone, or thirteen, on a whim.  But now this would be difficult.

I took the teeth.

I was at the table with the scientists when I asked a question that they were egotistically proud they had studied but not concerned with disseminating it, or discussing it. It was a pretty woman who had studied ethnopaleobotany I think. I didn’t get any information from her. I was down in the cement ally ways with the kids and the animals. A gorilla plucked a child who was being hurt up over the gate like a bag of trash. He wanted to speak to a man. I went down further into the ally. Black dogs barked all around me. I tried to reason with them, talking to them. I knew I had to get out of there.

Up in an office there was a travolta president. There was a handsome man in a suit who wanted to see me. There was an elevator you could press worn buttons on. They were pearlized and not lit up. I read CHILE and VIETNAM and I picked Chile not really expecting to be there when I pressed the button. Still everyone walking down the corridor was speaking Spanish. I turned around to go back to the elevator.

My escape from the black dogs I was running to a brown box and turning a right hand key and a latch opened and I drove away.

At the edge of the city Daniel Grafton was there and he gave me a long hug. It was sunrise.”Welcome to Baltimore,” I said. I parked in the middle of the road. But then I moved the car flush against a building and was unpacking. A hand reached through the gap between the building and the car for my bag. I couldn’t go back, I was cut off from the road, from the moment just before. Victoria Burkhardt was there. I asked if I could keep her black shoes. Sexy, Slinky Style she said or some other Es alteration. They were four inch heels with gold circles going up the side. I would never wear something like that.

A hand was rubbing mine softly…it was Joseph waking me up.

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blood thief

In a land of perpetual night I took to sitting in the bed of a red pick-up truck on a fairly regular basis. The truck was parked in my suburban childhood neighborhood, down Graeloch Road. I would just sit in it and think, and I always left it neat and exactly as I found it. The owner sometimes starred at me from his house window, but never said anything; I suppose he knew I wasn’t doing any harm. One time as I was getting ready to leave, he came outside. I was nervous, I didn’t know what to do. I took nothing from the truck, although this time it seemed to be lined with bait: a tube of cookies, a nice coat (that I initially thought was mine), even a little money. The owner didn’t say anything to me. In fact, I knew him — he was a kind new-agey man in his late 30s, too kind, to the point that he was a bit stupid.
One of the neighbors emerged from him home from across the street. He was in a panic. He immediately asked if we were donors, and said franticly, “she needs blood right now!” I didn’t trust him at all, something about his face and tone wouldn’t let me. I declined to aid the situation and made up an excuse to take my leave. The new-agey man did not. I was nervous for him, and asked for his phone number as he climbed into the strange man’s small car; but I didn’t get it all, he was too caught up in the situation’s distraught energy.
I later found out that he was drained of all his blood and left out in the woods for no particular reason. That man across the street . . . I see him sometimes, in other dreams. He has shoulder length hair, and he’s always sweating and in a frenzy. His greeting smile is a bit crooked. I’ve seen him before in waking life too, but I don’t recall where. ♨

moon beasts

The sky is falling. It’s gorgeous. Clouds are billowing upwards into shifting columns at a frantic speed. There are 2 moons. I’m walking with Ezy and he morphing into Ken. We don’t know if we are going to die or not. Large white blocks are falling as well. Alligator-like monsters are walking over the moon. They are gigantic, almost the size of the moon itself. Both moons are full, I recognize one as the earth’s moon. The other is alien to me, and has a deep cast of red to it. I’ve seen these alligator beings before. They haunt me at night. Their eyes are big, and their teeth bigger.

I am breast-feeding a baby. I’m not good at it. It hurts a bit. The baby is annoyed.  ♨

So who is this then?

The tall woman was seven feet tall. She was walking. I kneeled down to gather a handful of white flowers and came back inside to put them in a jar which needed to be fiddled with or cleaned.  Inside the brown skinned man’s car with him like a spouse only we must have been somewhere where you drive from the left side. He was really happy to be in his car and he rubbed the ceiling. He had drinks to mix in the back. It was a strange thought to be married to a man I couldn’t remember being intimate with.

In a house looking for a room for the little boy, there was a room with old grey paintings, down steps and somewhere I knew he would feel creepy.  Once I got to go to sleep in one of the three beds, a man with brown arms wrapped himself around my back strangely in desire. He was no one I knew. I was so relieved to see my little infant child crawling up beside the bed. I gathered her up. Then someone came in with guns. The ones out of the beds were in trouble.  They were chained up. It was really disturbing.

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red blood bed

I am a police officer. It is my first days on the job, the same goes for my partner. We’re driving in our patrol car. For some reason my partner stops the car and gets out–he is holding someone in the sights of his gun. I don’t know why, or what provoked him. He fires. The man dies fairly quickly. I’m not comfortable. I don’t know why he shot. Back at the station our supervisor makes him fill out a bunch of paperwork concerning the death.
A few days later I am in a similar situation. I am holding a man in my gun’s sights–he raises his arms and he is holding a gun. I fire. The man appears to die, and I have to go and fill out paperwork.
More days pass. I am in my room (though it does not represent any room I have every had). The man I shot comes in. My partner is sitting in a car in the corner, laughing, constantly laughing. I shoot the man, and he begins to bleed out of his chest. He is cheerful about the situation, and moves to my bed. He begins to taunt me and is proud that he is bleeding all over my bed. I start to reload my gun. It is taking too long for him to die. My partner hasn’t stopped laughing. I then notice that the bleeding man is trying to put a gun together. So I grab at it and wrestle it away from him. We end up on the floor before I successfully get the gun pieces out of his hand. He returns to bleed on my bed, and my partner never ceases to laugh. I put the gun together with the intention to shoot him in the head. But for some reason I put my two guns down in order to get something. He lunges for them and gets the guns. He is weak but manages to tackle me and pin me under him. He is bleeding all over me and attempting to muster enough strength to pull the trigger. I conjure myself awake before it he manages–my partner’s laugh still in my ear as I rouse into the waking world. ♨

shooting spree

I’m at a huge cafe with various seating areas. It’s not quite like a cafe I know in reality but nevertheless it looks familiar.  There’s rooms in the back, too.
I’m talking to someone in a car with four people in it. Suddenly I realize that the person next to the one I’m talking to is my ex-boyfriend whom I didn’t meet but somehow wanted talk to for a long time.
Suddenly I’m in the car and sitting next to my ex. He looks younger, thinner and smaller than I expected and not as mature and attractive as I expected.

I’m in a big building now and I think it’s a school. There will be people of all ages later though. A killing spree is going on, someone wants to shoot me. Probably my ex or Michel.
He has a small but long black gun. One shot kills. I think someone gets shot and I can see a small bloody hole on the person’s back. Everybody in the labyrinthlike school building, a lot of people are screaming and trying to run away.
The shooting person who is trying to catch me wears a thick dark blue and red checked shirt.

We, me and all the other people, are running through the corridors of the big building and I feel like I could get shot every second and that the gunman knows exactly where I’m going.
At some point I’m in a room or corridor with a lot of high white lockers and think it’s the best idea to just hide inside one of them.  As the corridor gets quieter because the majority of people ran away I see that more strangers are hiding in the lockers and that it’s not a good idea because he’ll be able to find me there. So I start running again. I feel bad because the whole situation is my fault. I’m extremely scared.

There’s a group of people, some clearly defined characters I can’t recall now. I’m not sure if they all want to catch me or help. They are discussing and planning something, I observe them.
And start running again. Through corridors and rooms. In one room there’s a milk glass door through which I see a lot of people running on the corridor behind. Someone is in the room with me and I warn that person that there’s a glass door and that we could be seen through it.

Everything gets quiet, everybody ran away. The room I’m now in looks like inside of a factory building. There’s only the group of people who I think wants to help me left. I dare to leave my hideout. I now think that it’s my ex who wanted to catch me. But he disappeared. We don’t know to where and how and why.
I’m looking up to some kind of wooden balcony and see a face.
“There he is” I say and point at him.
Someone asks the shooter “Why didn’t you say (your name is) ‘Michel’?”
“I didn’t think of that” the person answers.
It’s a thin guy wearing a costume that makes him look fatter and like a girl, he has a blond ponytail but a deep voice.

I now realize that the whole group is against me.

Another guy has the lathy black gun and almost shoots me but the gun goes to pieces. (Like in a bad movie, I think.)
I start running again. I’m outside now. There’s a low broad stone tunnel. I can see some rails, hoardings and high grass.
I try to crawl my way to escape.
I’m positive that I’ll be able to escape but I can hardly move forward.
I don’t know how to crawl I think as I wake up because my heart is hammering too hard to stay asleep any longer. ☆