Dream Shrapnel

Climbing up a cliff by the ocean, a wall of soft grass. Clinging with wet handfuls as I pass nests of juvenile seagulls. I become very small and live inside a mussel shell.


Ross and I are engaged in hand to hand combat, and I can’t stop crying. I am immeasurably depressed.

Floating in a muddy pond at dusk, I am a fuzzy yellow duckling surrounded by fuzzy yellow ducklings. There is something about me that is very wrong, they are all afraid of me.


The sensation of walking barefoot over a chain link fence laid on wet grass at night.


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