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Hollow-Holler
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June 08, 2011 - 12:48
A dream devoid of color and somehow more disgusting for it. Paddling through inky, oily water at night; corpse, bone and gore brushing my body and sifting through my fingers as I fought drowning. The water, a lagoon surrounding a suburban split level in the middle of the woods. A confusing juxtaposition to be sure, but there it was.
I woke up with the word "Westenbrae" on my mind; a word that doesn't exist, but was maybe just a misfiled "Westenra".
I was there against my conscious will, at the mercy of some invisible menace playing a depraved prank.
Heavy water, oiled satin, black.
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