(no subject)
Waking up with a strong feeling of surreality
I know this place but it sure doesn't look familiar
Despite the way hyperventilating into wakefulness has dulled my senses
No matter how much toothpaste I might have used the night before
My senses seemed overwhelmed by the tahinni that wants to crawl out of my stomach
Horrid dreams about eating breakfast in a shitty diner with my father
I didn't know the place but I'm sure it was in Alexandria or DC
Just like all the other places I went when I was young and it was the weekend
The people in my dream were common and tired
Sick and tired, but not with a virus- rather with a stale mindset
One day in the grind too many turned these would-be good folks off
It was as if their souls had died but their bodies kept moving through routines
The necrotic essence of their being lingered though, only making them more miserable
Everyone was of a different ethnicity, but keeping to their separate lives
This was most definitely DC in the mid 90s
Two black men sat behind me, friends but homophobically sitting apart in separate booths
The waitress who seemed to lack a race but had traits of them all
The old, white haired man in a booth across from us
More intent on the going-ons within his paper than the world around him
The two Latino men, mid twenties with matching outfits and haircuts
In the dream I'd danced around and mocked them with a song
Mocked them for their ways because they were different
making fun of their flamboyantly gay, prideful ways in a song
Then near the end the figure walking down the street away from the restaurant with me
It wasn't my father, but my mother- younger but seemingly just as soul sick
As I walked down semi-familiar Alexandria dream-scapes where a long rail followed the sidewalk
missiles were loaded onto the tracks of the rails which ran the length of the road/sidewalk
I talked on the phone as my mother grew sicker with every step we took
Finally we duck into an apartment store where she runs for the bathroom
I'm looking out at the world behind a plate glass window
Watching the missiles travel down down the tracks until they take off with great speed
Leaving behind tremendous clouds of brown and black smoke, off to destroy
The people outside in the city are going about their business
Stepping on and off buses and the metro, walking in and out of shops
They all look tired and diseased with a malady of a dead soul
I guess when I think about, it was another dream about zombies...
I know this place but it sure doesn't look familiar
Despite the way hyperventilating into wakefulness has dulled my senses
No matter how much toothpaste I might have used the night before
My senses seemed overwhelmed by the tahinni that wants to crawl out of my stomach
Horrid dreams about eating breakfast in a shitty diner with my father
I didn't know the place but I'm sure it was in Alexandria or DC
Just like all the other places I went when I was young and it was the weekend
The people in my dream were common and tired
Sick and tired, but not with a virus- rather with a stale mindset
One day in the grind too many turned these would-be good folks off
It was as if their souls had died but their bodies kept moving through routines
The necrotic essence of their being lingered though, only making them more miserable
Everyone was of a different ethnicity, but keeping to their separate lives
This was most definitely DC in the mid 90s
Two black men sat behind me, friends but homophobically sitting apart in separate booths
The waitress who seemed to lack a race but had traits of them all
The old, white haired man in a booth across from us
More intent on the going-ons within his paper than the world around him
The two Latino men, mid twenties with matching outfits and haircuts
In the dream I'd danced around and mocked them with a song
Mocked them for their ways because they were different
making fun of their flamboyantly gay, prideful ways in a song
Then near the end the figure walking down the street away from the restaurant with me
It wasn't my father, but my mother- younger but seemingly just as soul sick
As I walked down semi-familiar Alexandria dream-scapes where a long rail followed the sidewalk
missiles were loaded onto the tracks of the rails which ran the length of the road/sidewalk
I talked on the phone as my mother grew sicker with every step we took
Finally we duck into an apartment store where she runs for the bathroom
I'm looking out at the world behind a plate glass window
Watching the missiles travel down down the tracks until they take off with great speed
Leaving behind tremendous clouds of brown and black smoke, off to destroy
The people outside in the city are going about their business
Stepping on and off buses and the metro, walking in and out of shops
They all look tired and diseased with a malady of a dead soul
I guess when I think about, it was another dream about zombies...