Haze and leaves

Today was a vague day, filled with hazy light-headedness. Much of the day was spent as the domestic avatar (of that omnipotent Domestic God). I did struggle though, probably due to lack of sleep. Between Ange’s nocturnal wanderings and my own (very graphic) dreams, sleep was a difficult state to maintain.

The dreams were pretty cool. Two remain to me as very strong visual fragment memories. The latter of these was a dream about a wise/tough-guy who tangled with devil-worshippers, who strung him up and tortured him with knives, until a baddass demon (in Diablo-esque form) manifested and disembowelled him with his forehead horn. When the guy was dead (and the image is very graphic in my mind), his soul appears, a translucent copy of him that forms a ‘coat’ of semi-physical matter that is pounced upon by the demon, who casts the soul into hell (yes, literally casts, by grabbing his arm and flinging him into a conveniently handy formless void), where it is swallowed by a giant pod-like maw (where my pre-waking impression was, he will gestate and grow into a demon of middling power, which apparently was a reasonable deal, at least to my dream mind).

I reiterate, this was a dream, not a story I’m making up. The images are cartoonlike, but quite resonant in my mind. Now onto the other one.

I (as in the real me) was the owner of a rambling gothic mansion, presumably from my good fortune in the world. Ange was my partner, and working with a welfare organisation (also a realistic projection). The downside was, her concerned colleagues showed me photos of her becoming personable with a hunky late-twenty-something co-worker. The photos themselves were not graphic, they were black & white stills of Ange looking sad, reclining on a lounge, with the guy nearby. Other photos showed moments of coy intimacy, but nothing overt. This of course churned every jealous instinct in my body (and yes, I have dealt with such issues earlier in my life). When I confronted her, in the bowels of our mansion (by the indoor pool I believe), she basically said ‘well derrr! he’s a hunk, of course I had an affair with him’. The lucidity gets a bit vague after that, with the house becoming on-again/off-again haunted.

Okay, I can take some psychology stabs at what this dream meant, although I am 100% positive any insecurities I’m feeling subconsciously are totally baseless.

On to other things…

I caught up with Damien on the phone this arvo. We only had a brief chat, as he’s in the middle of moving house. We’ll catch up in detail in another couple of weeks, after I get back from the Big Trip.

Ange and I went over to Sharon and Brian’s place for a birthday bash they were throwing. Regretfully we couldn’t stay as Ange’s homework is mounting up big time. We did catch up with my ex-Centrelink friends (all three of them) which was nice.

I also penned a flash story entitled The Rustle of Autumnal Leaves. I like the concept and think it’s probably the creepiest of my flash stories (on a par with Practical Joke anyway). I’m not sure where I will send it yet, probably Ideomancer or Antipodean SF.

I have abandoned (temporarily) Examination, for a story I call Canned Desire and Wire-tap Love. One or the other will end up as my Consensual a trois submission.

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