Skeleton House

The frame of a house stands in front of other houses built on a charming residential street. It is a mere skeleton with flights of stairs reaching more than seven stories into the air. There are no walls and no floors, only the basic outline and those stairs.

My companion urges me to enter, and with another friend in front of him and myself taking up the rear we begin to ascend the flights of stairs. I can see the rectangles of green grass lined up beside the sidewalk below.

When I glance to my right I am looking at a complete house painted in a very regal eggplant hue. To my left is the street, more grass, sidewalk, and high end homes. Their front doors have brass knockers, their windows are arched rather than squared.

The structure we are in is out of place, practically in the front yard of the eggplant house. We are nearly to the third floor when it begins to sway unsteadily to and fro.

For a moment it leans on the house to the right. Then suddenly every beam gives way, the stairs fall into a line of planks, like toothpicks glued end to end set dangling in mid air.

I have managed to grip this. I am swinging on it, trying to reach my friends hanging from suspended beams before they fall.

Attack from Within

Her hair is almost white, her fair complexion is masked by an elaborate paint job. The pattern is exotic, the colors vivid. Bright red features predominately.

She is on the floor convulsing. For the first time I am able to perceive that which vexes her.

It is barely visible, a yellowish vapor with a distinct shape. It reaches into her through her vagina with two arm like tentacles.

They look like the spine of some bony fish made outrageously long. Its head is featureless and elliptical, protruding from the end of a gangly limb like torso nearly undistinguishable from the other two appendages. It moves with determination and presence, clearly a calculating life form. I sense that it derives some satisfaction from its probing and the screams it elicits.

As her writhing and her cries cease I look away not wanting to comprehend the significance of such sudden silence.

Twisting Road

I am driving on a twisting, winding road in El Salvador with my sister.
The road is narrow and treacherous, plenty of people have accidentally driven off by a slight gust of wind.
We are headed over a mountain covered in lush jungle foliage and I have a birds-eye-view of the car. As I try to concentrate on the road, I take a quick glance at my sister and notice she is my mirror image.
She gasps as she remembers she has forgotten something, I wonder if we should head back...although I am unclear where back is.
Is it in front of us or behind us? It is clear that we have been here before..the end and the beginning are blurred.

Dividing Door

I am in front of a door...

more precisely, there is a doorway separating me from a friend; sometimes a door appears, sometimes it is invisible although the feeling of a boundary remains.

My friend is testing the lighting situation, looking at me through the peephole in the door...the sometimes invisible door.

She says she can see my dark shape, she knows I am there...although my details are completely obscured.

Mirror

I am in an old shop, filled with old carpets from the Middle East and antique treasures.
There is a mirror I have been coveting.
I have dreamt about this mirror before or have some strange feeling of recognition that I cannot place. It is a large oval mirror, the size of an adult and it's attached to a solid base, so it can stand alone anywhere in a room.
I run my fingers over the carved, cherry wood....the woodworker has decided to make the edges into waves, resembling mermaid's hair. As I admire it, I discover a hidden mirror on the top- it can be pulled out or pushed back. When I pull it out, the bottom mirror is useless- it has stopped capturing my reflection and only in the square mirror on top can I see myself.