lions and witches

2003-09-18, 10:02 a.m.

is it fair to swindle, to cheat -even if it's just yourself- someone of thoughts and of memories, like a scythe in a field of wheat? no answer, no forecast for the things written (i miss you babe), no way to tell which way time points. especially strange is the way time is moving today, like cloud layers, it's 10:06 then it's 9:50 (oh my, this is how alice felt); worthy of a few abstract paintings.

a string of water, dewy and soft, is stretched across my lips, reaching my finger tips, maybe to remember my dream last night. You see, i was in the land from the Lion the Witch adn the Wardrobe, snowy landscapes made modern but still so cold that my ears scream of their own accord. i ran through the snow, and i found the clues to get me out, but each one carried me deeper into the fantasy, until just like in the book, i was forgetting the real world.

you were in the dream too, i met you in the beginning, and you were so warm that the white palor around you turned rosy pink. i ran through a tunnel and into a crowded city (as the piece of paper told me to do), found myself being chased by lion faced police, hungry for my blood and my flesh; hungry to feel my warm blood soaking their manes. I made it through the streets, everyones face was like a picture left in the sun too long, then strained by gravity for a thousand years; a street full of strangers.

outside the city was the familiar white, as though heaven was shedding its skin for a new tint of white, something we cant quite comprehend. i found you again, but i read the paper again, inescapable. you were carried, smiling at me still, and i woke up. Thank you for giving me the most beautiful smile this morning, even if you were still asleep.