| It was
perfectly clear, a hellish painting... 812 |
[Jan. 31st, 2010|11:54 pm] |
It was
perfectly clear, a hellish painting inside my head
But it wasn't the dream of the little girls
fleeing the frog-thing that was making my heart
pound, not the dream that caused me to wake up on
the floor with my mouth tasting like copper and
every nerve seeming to burnIt was, rather, the
way you wake from a bad dream realizing that you
forgot something important: to turn off the stove,
for instance, and now the house is filled with the
smell of gas
I pulled my foot off the bed and it hit the floor
in a burst of pins and needlesI rubbed it,
grimacingAt first it was like rubbing a block of
wood, but then that numb sensation started to
leaveThe sensation that I'd forgotten something
vital did not
But what? I had some hopes that our expedition to
the south end of the Key might put an end to the
whole nasty, festering businessThe biggest
hurdle, after all, was belief itself, and as |
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