In this morning’s dream, I was walking around outside (in an overgrown lot) looking for a place to bed down for the night. There was little ambient light, the sky above me a gray blanket trimmed with the rosy promise of dawn. Rounding the side of a one-storey brick building, I started to make my way through the trees and bushes that grew beside and behind it. Treading carefully so as not to alert the people living nearby to my presence (taller brick structures stood beyond a chainlink fence on a rise above the first building), I made noise nonetheless, the underbrush below my feet crackling loudly. On my way to the rear of the building I passed two makeshift blinds, one a flimsy construction of bent cardboard, the other a sturdier model made from a metal framework and some type of plastic cloth. Behind each blind was a pillow and a worn-down area where someone seemed to have slept recently.
Security lights turned on, illuminating the area brilliantly, and I became aware of the presence of what looked like many cameras watching, unblinking eyes that tracked my every move. I attempted to lay down in an effort to avoid their gaze, but a thin beam of piercing white light shot through the chainlink fence, thwarting my every effort to escape it.
Time passed, for the sky had lightened considerably. I was standing in front of the one-storey building speaking to its proprietress. She had dark hair, an attractive face, and the type of exaggeratedly-proportioned body normally found on girl’s fashion dolls. Apparently, this woman realized I found her attractive, for she turned to one side to show me her large breasts and slender waist. Then, a different woman - this one with blond hair tucked into a tattered baseball cap and wearing a bulky coat - walked out from behind my field of vision to enter the brick building, a basket of what looked like soiled clothing in her arms. I then examined the structure in front of me more closely and discovered it was a laundry-mat of sorts. The last thing I remember before waking up was that all of its washers appeared to be running at full blast.
Huzzah, mahalo, and om swastiastu.
americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥