Nov 23, 2007 14:55
I don't think I dreamed last night. But if I had, it would have gone like this:
A crow flew to my house on the chilly November gales, and knocked its beak against my window. It was carrying a red ribbon in its beak, and it pecked at me when I went outside, so I followed it. The weather was windy and cold and the crow kept getting blown off course, but I could always see the ribbon against the grey clouded sky, and we kept going. It stopped at a cemetery; the gate was crusted over with ice but there was no snow on the ground to leave footprints. A particular headstone caught my eye: it had an angel, carved of white, but overgrown with black mold. The spores crawled up one arm and overtook its face, leaving only a sweeping sliver of pale stone draped down the front. The crow perched atop this angel, looking west, and indicated that it wanted me to kneel. We discussed idolatry at length, and hedonism perhaps a bit less, and when the sun started going down we left an offering of a red fall apple and handrolled cigarettes.
I woke up soon after that, and my jaw hurt.
inspired by a true story,
writing,
dreams,
weird