Dream Chronicles (2009)

Sometimes, one dreams dreams that defy all explanation. Of course, one might argue that most dreams exist to impede one’s sense of coherence. But what I mean to describe is the kind of dream that transcends all boundaries of normalcy to reach new heights of inanity, steadfastly refusing to conform to any trends in traditional psychological theory. Smorgasbords of fairy dust, disjointed fragments of reality (or surreality), and a healthy dose of Freudian primitivism – these little chimeras spun from the depths of your disloyal grey matter only serve to confuse you further when you think back and try to make sense of them the morning after. One such vagary made itself known in my subconscious awhile back, leaving me thoroughly disoriented, mildly horrified, yet rather amused in its aftermath.

So let me relate to you the tale of the amiable organ-eater.

She talked to me, and I answered. Her friend had the most charming little snout, and was adorned with yellow fur echoing the softness of dandelion fields. A clean, vertical slice was made, from the top of his cranium to the middle of his sun-coloured belly. An unexpectedly human-like brain, only lacking its silver-grey poncho; the tinge mimetic of its container's surface, slightly jaundiced and free of blood. I assume that's where she started her meal, because I was occupied with other things. Multiple perspectives converged into one, and all at once everything was visible. Large intestine, spleen, smooth and bright in the lamplight. Stop, I said. She paused in mid-chew and, imagine my surprise when she deferred to my request. Alright, alright. He was mean to you though. Now she steps into the carcass she so recently vacated, and sews the single seam back up. Silken words flow forth from the furry face she so skillfully stole: Are you happy now?

So much for stream-of-consciousness writing.