bliumchik: (quantum)
I dreamed I was sitting with the Writers’ Society exec, the old group of which I am the last one still involved in the Society, at a weirdly open-plan sort of Clubs Day.

Several tables to our right, another, younger society was resolving a dispute primarily by ganging up on the disagreeing member and making her cry. I started ranting about this, causing a few heads to turn when my “DOING IT WRONG” echoed across the room. Eventually the group dispersed, their ringleader locking eyes with me as she walked past us, and I went over to the circle of chairs they left, where the girl was silently crying. She had a long blonde ponytail.

“Boy, have I been there,” I said to her, choking up with sympathy tears, and then had to get up to fetch tissues. We shared a laugh-cry moment, and then for some reason I decided to share a Greek myth with her.

“I mean, Heliotrope,” I said, “was having the worst day ever. Not only did she find out her husband was fucking a rabbit, but she literally turned into a painting.”

(At this point my dream treated me to a graphic vision of Heliotrope’s skin grafting onto the painting’s canvas as it absorbed her.)

“But let me tell you something,” I continued. “Heliotrope won.”

But before I could explain how Heliotrope won, my mum came in and woke me up (for the LAST TIME, which makes it fitting that it was absolutely classic – she told me last night when she expected me to be awake, I set my alarm for that time, and then she came in 40 mins earlier than my alarm to “fix” something about my room that wasn’t bothering me and opened the curtains so I couldn’t get back to sleep.)

Here’s the problem: there’s no such myth. The word heliotrope comes from a Greek story about a nymph who was in unrequited love with the sun-god Helios, and thereby turned into a flower whose face always turns toward the sun. This contains the right elements from my dream, of the lover forsaking you for someone else and of turning into something nonsentient, but a) there’s no rabbits or paintings and b) she doesn’t Win. Unless you call having a 19th century German guy name a scientific instrument after you winning.

So help me out, internet – tell me the rest of the story. If your husband was fucking a rabbit and the Gods turned you into a painting, how would you Win?
bliumchik: THIS IS NOT SPARTA. I AM LOST. (scenic detour!)
I've been dreaming odd things, like a virus that turns people into douchebags and somehow leads me to an underground cookie warehouse with a pudgy middle-aged topless androgynous but probably female head of security who has writing all over hir skin in sharpie and keeps secretly rearranging the toffees so the colours don't pattern as well. Also, before I finished reading Alan Moore's Voice of the Fire, I dreamed an extra chapter to it - one set in the future instead of the past - and took a while to remember that no, that wasn't actually part of the book. I no longer remember what happened in the dream-chapter, but I'm done with the real book now and I have got to say it was pretty awesome. I definitely reccommend it to anyone who enjoys a bit of grue in their some and appreciates cool stylistic devices, and/or is interested in British history. But trust me on the grue.

My boyfriend had a St Andrew's Day party, in which he and a couple of his friends cooked ALL OF THE SCOTTISH FOOD, if by Scottish you mean made of oats. I missed the bit with the potato cakes and the whole roast duck because of a meeting I had to go to at uni, but I got to partake of oatcakes, alcohol, oat-related alcohol, roast lamb and stew (as far as I know, not containing oats) and a sort of oat-and-nut dessert thing which turned out to be quite nice on top of oatcake. With tea.

Also I trolled a Bear Grylls fan and was briefly subject to the awkward realisation that I was wedged on a couch between a dude with a girl on his lap on one side, and two chicks making out on the other. I couldn't decide if I should feel intrusive or left out. Later, a fridge magnet flower fell into Tallulah's cleavage in such perfect arrangement that I assumed it was there on purpose, but it turned out she hadn't even noticed it was there. Or possibly earlier, my memory fails me. Alcohols!

Deadlines are starting to threaten to loom, but I have gotten done SOME things of use, so I feel sort of okay. I have applied for cross-institutional study, this time BEFORE the office closes for the new year, which is an improvement on last time, so I might actually get to do that this time.

I shall leave you with a hilarious anecdote from a friend of my mother's, a Russian woman. Her husband's job took him to New Zealand for several months on a contract. His final day there, he got really drunk, fell over, bashed his head open on something and woke up in hospital, still tipsy. He then decided he did not need to be in hospital, removed his IV drip, walked out and caught a taxi. In the taxi he ripped out the IV nozzle from his vein and started bleeding everywhere. Somehow, the Kiwis still let him on a plane - he showed up at his wife's doorstep in Sydney, drunk and covered in blood, right on schedule.

My mum's only comment was to sigh and shake her head and say "Russian men, you know. This is why your father doesn't drink."
bliumchik: Item: trebuchet. Item: zombie. Sound effect: braaAAAAaains. Zombie Badminton: priceless.  (zombieminton)
This morning I dreamed three large dogs and I were tasked with the relocation of a flock of sheep from one of my kitchen cupboards to an undisclosed location. I decided to accomplish this by carrying one sheep at a time, leaving the dogs in charge of the rest of the flock. I lost the sheep somewhere between my house and the beach, where I found myself out on the rocks at the edge of the cliffs.

Here a common theme of my dreams reappeared - you see, I tend to be slightly aware of what's happening to my body in the waking world, but what's usually happening to my body is... lying down with my eyes closed. So I periodically have dreams in which I have trouble moving my limbs or opening my eyes.

So there I was, climbing the rocks by feel with eyelids like lead. I was heading for the edge but I got to the top instead, when I finally managed to open my eyes I was clinging to a rock with sheer cliff above and a fairly precarious climb down. At this point the dream featured an odd conversation with some people who were hanging out up there. I can't remember the details, I think I wrote a song lyric on the cliff to demonstrate a point for some guy. Anyway, I eventually climbed down onto a road, and then jogged across it and some fields towards my house. I think I ran into a woman on my way, apologised and kept going, and then... something about Plants Vs Zombies, IDK. Except there were caves in it. I think I have been playing this game too much.
bliumchik: (nothing sus)
I had this weird dream in which I was Batman and I had to get some people out of a big bear trap like pit thing under the noses of some random Evil People. And the last one required subterfuge in the form of making out. And then suddenly she was the Empress of a country or something that I'd taken over and tradition required me as the new Empress (I'm pretty sure I was no longer Batman by this point...) to have her literally turned into a statue, but that sounded painful, so I brought in my jewellery makers and got them to make a scale model of her in silver and rubies instead. The heart was half a ruby die as per Amanda Palmer. Then there was some faintly awkward nude modelling. I woke up just as I was trying to figure out how the golden hair would work - I was thinking it would stick into the head like on Barbie dolls, but that would require heating up the silver, which might then go out of shape. Yes, these are the things I worry about in dreams.

...in other news I have a dress rehearsal today and I do not know my lines well enough! And I do know it is poetry month but have not yet had time to post things! :(

Ugh why am I still sleepy? I slept in for so long this morning! Now I'm trying to sort out my centrelink thingies in time to go to the junction and do moar admin before rehearsal, but capped internet is screwing it up. And I still have to find a magnifying glass!
bliumchik: (nothing sus)
I'm sunburnt! But I now own a pair of long black socks with faux-stitching on, and a set of skeleton gloves which are somehow simultaneously loose at the wrist, tight in the knuckles and long at the fingertips. I think they were made for a small Ent. I can totally solve the fingertip problem by just cutting them off though. The gloves', not mine.

Been sending off resumes, argh why must cover letters be so traumatic. But employment is hopefully on the horizon! Goal no. 1: an actual working PC. Goal no. 2: a schedule that works out to ~$400 a week so I can hopefully try moving out of my parents house sometime this year. Goal no. 3: Tattoo. I want to put that earlier on that list but frankly my mother has had three separate meltdowns this week and this shit is just not on. Oh dear, excuse me while I find my headphones. *sigh* Goal no. 4: Backpacking! Europe! With a backpack! These plans are vague to the point of consisting entirely of one conversation with Maria that pretty much just went "oh my god backpacking through Europe would be so awesome!" "oh my god I know!" "neither of us is employed :(" "oh my god I know :("

ALSO been remembering dreams lately (...non-metaphorical ones, I mean) but... not WHOLE dreams, just really vague images. Three nights in a row now! First Jamie from GWS and her gay-above-the-waist...ness. The next night featured the rhythm section of The Used, one of whom had to help me talk the other down from a tree, and I can't remember why... and then there was probably sexytiems, because why wouldn't there be. But the next one was TOTALLY NOT SEXY AT ALL as it involved really realistic and really CREEPY gaping flesh wounds that looked like papercuts until you tugged on them gently. WHAT IS ALL UP IN MY BRAIN, GUYS. IS IT THE HEAT. I THINK IT IS THE HEAT.
bliumchik: Jack Harkness says Allo, I have come to have sex with your species  (sex!)
Sometimes I remember my dreams. Sometimes I don't. Sometimes, generally due to an untimely yet non-urgent wake-up call, I remember bits and pieces and cannot for the life of me figure out how they fit together, and become intensely curious as to What I'm Missing, but alas. gone forever.

For instance this morning I dreamed about bisexual porn and spaceship crashes. Actual porn mind, it wasn't just a sex dream, it actually paused to let me know that the actors lubed up off camera. I blame fandom for this. I also get the feeling that one of the pornstars helped me out of the wreckage of my spaceship, but that may be a waking-confusion mashup. There was definitely a conspiracy of some sort involved in the crash, though, so who knows. Maybe the porn was part of the plot.

Um hi morning. Afternoon. Afternoon. Shit.

Solution: more [livejournal.com profile] bandombigbang. Clearly.
bliumchik: (Default)
The Witch
I dreamed we were chasing her down a narrow concrete stairway, grimy
and always a flight behind
though she would leave projections on the walls. I don't remember what was in them.
Finally there was a room, with strange things on hooks
attached to the wall, shapes with no purpose.
I pulled aside a green curtain and there was nothing behind it.

She made us sit, and we sat. I thought I was wearing a dress
but I wasn't. The floor between my legs was wet. These
were apparently related in some way.
We talked casually, as though in high school, and
I said "So then you want to date
me after all?" But I don't remember
to whom. Meanwhile she disappeared, or made us think
she disappeared. Who knows.

I woke up and there was no
sorceress, no stairwell,
but thought the conversation real
until midway through breakfast I
remembered. Then came amateur psychology.

***

Urgh, okay, maybe staying up till six am last night was a less-than-good idea. Now I'm all brain-dead and I just conked out for an hour or two and I've probably fucked up my sleeping patterns for a couple of days. Why? WHO KNOWS. I think I was reading bandslash. Or something. And downloading crap.

Have some otherpeoplespoetry for poetry month.

I Sing the Body Electric )

The Body Electric would be such an awesome name for a band.

Also what the hell is this bullshit? That's loony! how would it even work internationally?
bliumchik: (quantum)
I'm having these recurring dreams where I can walk through walls. Not all the time, though, I can't just stick a hand through something. I have to really spread out and lean against it with my whole body and not pay attention and just sort of relax through it. I think it was coded to my self-consciousness issues, because that was the feeling when I couldn't do it. Like people are looking at me, how can I just fall through a solid wall when they can see me?

I'm also disconnecting the internet for the weekend and trying to get an absolutely ridiculous amount of practice essays done, woohoo.
bliumchik: (nothing sus)
Maybe I should keep a notebook by my bed. I've managed to forget most of an even weirder dream - I think I was some kind of slug that was a whiz at personal finance and also an architect, and please don't ask how a bit of that dream managed to be about sex, because I think as a teenager I have a memo stuck to my file in the Sandman's office: "Don't forget the sex." Er, I left that bit out of the last dream description. I can't remember much else, except I insulted some fat chicks in an elevator. Go figure.

Actually, that just reminded me of Schindler's Lifts, and it occurs to me that those would have a much more sinister meaning if they had skyscrapers in the holocaust.

Well, I don't want this to turn into one of those journals that's all dreams and whining, so from now on I'll only post the ones that weird in a funny sort of way.

Also, haircut! It's uh... well. Not quite what I asked for, and also not quite what I had in mind (which I think are two completely different things because I had to translate it into Russian) but it's cute. There may be photos, there may not. Actually screw it, everyone at school will see it in like a week and I doubt the internet randoms really care that I look like one of Melaka Fray's groupies. Also I think I could probably pull off the same semi-afro my parents both had in the eighties (yes, both of them), which is a scary thought.
bliumchik: (fight the system)
I had the oddest dream this morning, as tends to happen when somebody wakes me up and then lets me go back to sleep and then wakes me up again (thanks, dad).

It was a Year twelve school camp, and we were on this huge balcony by the harbour. I was running around trying to plant this tree in a ridiculously small square of fertilizer, and there was this chocolate mud cake that I had to keep reminding people wasn't for planting trees in, because it looked the same. At some point I went over to talk to Zoe - I don't remember what that conversation was about, probably trees. Then Poppy asked me what colour vanilla was (she was eating ice cream).

That kind of melded into a legal studies excursion...? )
bliumchik: (Default)
Last night I dreamed of an episode of Supernatural in which Sam and Dean were hunting... Sam and Dean. Then the Spanish Inquisition arrived in pursuit of a pegasus, which turned out to be a girl. Of course Sam rescued her, and for some reason spoke to her in Spanish (which was hot. Unfortunately the only foreign language he speaks on the show is Latin. Must re-watch that episode with the exorcism...)

Yeah, I'm procrastinating. The layer of stuff on my desk is about ten centimetres thick, and I have so much to do for exams that I don't even know where to start. Ahhh, why must there be school?
bliumchik: (Default)
[livejournal.com profile] themissinghat. So. Bizarre.

In other oddball news, today in assembly the orchestra unexpectedly struck out in a full brass-band version of the school song, complete with oom-pa-pa and a little *ting* from something shiny. I'm not sure why, but it was simply hilarious at the time. And then later they played some famous overture whose name I forgot, and the conductor looked like he was having a siezure, and we just cracked up laughing. For some reason that whole assembly was just full of teh funny.

It also reminded me of a strange dream I meant to recount. There was a whole crowd of us standing in the hall just inside the main entrance to the school, outside C4. The way was blocked by two lines of teachers, and in the middle of them stood Mr Thompson The Deputy. They suspected that Ms Varady The Principal was dead in her office, but nobody wanted to go in and check. Eventually Mr Thompson asked very seriously "Does anyone have a handkerchief?" and I gave him one. He took a run up and cricket-bowled it to Mr Cleaver, who was crouching near the reception area and kicked it onto a cupboard. Then everyone sort of stood around feeling stupid.

No, I have no idea either.

For Truth, Justuce, Freedom, Reasonably Priced Love, And A Hard Boiled Egg!
bliumchik: baffled cat is baffled (OMGWTF)
Also, I had a dream. But i can't remember anything, except that there were librarians in it. I was in Bowen library, and the fiction section had been replaced by shelves and shelves of yellow pages, and the children's section was in a circus tent. And I was like "You've replaced the children's books with-" and the librarian was like "Yes."
bliumchik: batface + batpalm = batfacepalm (snark)
Today after ASC (the course-which-is-not-mind-and-morality, for all you school people) we went and listened to Karl Kruszelnicki give a talk on, apparently, life the universe and everything. I mean, he was talking about global warming, and then suddenly there were fridges involved, and then Amityville Horror. And the guy talks faster than I do! A funny moment occurred before he started - his microphone wouldn't work until he switched it off and then on again, and i couldn't help bursting out with "OMG! He's got a Windows microphone!"

In other news, a dream from a few days ago. People were doing sucky things to the environment and the planet was all covered with machinery and stuff, and then "I" was standing on a beach, at night. And the sky just plain shattered open like a pinata and a huge wall of light and water came bursting through it, carrying a whale about the size of Sydney. Later there were little people living in tunnels (NO NOT HOBBITS THANK YOU) and I've forgotten most of it. But the sky cracking open stayed with me for a while. The next morning i kept looking at it suspiciously. Gorram whales.
bliumchik: baffled cat is baffled (OMGWTF)
An odd dream from a few days ago.

I was chasing a large china doll around a field. It started beeping really fast and shrilly, and then exploded, causing me to die. I went back to the last save point, and this time prodded it with a stick to keep it at a distance. There was a wall that prevented me from leaving the field, and a really tall guy reached down and helped me over it.

Then we were walking along a sort of really long pier from nowhere that zigzagged up and down and had random stairs. Except the POV switched and I was the guy. Anyway, there was something evil in the water and we were wondering if it was a shark. Then the pier finished up above a bunch of white houses in a bay surrounded by cliffs. Near one of the cliffs, a young couple were skinny dipping. The evil thing in the water lifted them up with a sort of black force that did head-snappy unpleasant things, and then turned the boy's heart into an apple.

Then it turned their bodies into funeral barges with offerings and things, and the bodies covered by cloths so nobody could tell how they'd died. The barges floated down till they were caught by a quasi-egyptian civilisation that made a living off this sort of thing. It was kind of like a necropolis, all their clothes came from the dead etc. Anyway, there was a guy there who was Simon tam from Firefly, only a writer and not a doctor. He'd been transplanted from our world into that one. He was sitting at a dinner table with a bucnh of necropolis men, one of whom was kind of Wash. When Simon mentioned he wrote fiction, they all laughed and Wash said "I went through a fiction phase when I was in college". Simon said "Really?" And then it dawned on him that if he was in a fictional world, they might have fiction about our world, so he asked "Have you ever heard of an ellipse?" And Wash said, "Yeah, I read a book about that once..."

There were a few more of those questions, and then another guy picked up the apple from the boat and said "Oh, this is a big one". He got a pen-knife and cut into it, then dug his fingers into the crack and pulled open the apple with a crunching sound.

Its core was the spine of a fish.

That's all I remember, but I am so using that final image in something.

Also, a meme:
Give me any pairing (from a fandom I know about, please - feel free to ask if you're not sure) a one-word theme (object, place, thought, feeling), and I'll write you a one-line story.

EDIT: I have 444 entries! *waves leetle flag*
bliumchik: (ya gotta laugh)
Gorrammit, the computer ate my entry. Well, anyway, here's a bunny with a pancake on its head list of bizarre events:

1. I was rudely awoken at 7am by a flock of parrots alighting noisily on a branch outside my window for no readily apparant reason. I thought they were supposed to be flying north for the winter? NORTH, DAMMIT.

2. Thanks to the aforementioned PARROTS OF DOOM waking me a little bit every time I started to drift off, I spent the next three hours in a semi-conscious haze, and had one of my characteristic weird-ass sciffy dreams. There was a bunch of people who had the "Sleepy Sickness" from Sandman, except they were also stuck in VR a la Tad Williams. Me and the Big Bad Wolf had to find a bunch of other people for an Epic Quest to save them, and for some reason I was an African man with weird green tubes in my hair. Anyway, we went to a grocery store,s where we got odd loks, so we pretended to be on our honeymoon. Then I got shipwrecked on an island inhabited by hillbillies who refused to feed me. A kid gave me a slice of bread for an American dollar, though. Then I found a net full of meat hanging from some trees and jumped up to try and reach some, but my arms were really heavy. There was a guy sitting on the net taunting me, but then he turned out to be the hilbillies grandfather and invited me to dinner. Halfway through the meal, I saw a steamboat coming towards the island, so I apologised profusely in Russian and ran down to the beach, where I met a man on a bicycle and his uber-jealous girlfriend, and then I woke up properly.

3. On the bus to Avi's house, I encountered a teenage goth punk... in the body of a sixtyfive-year-old man. He was wearing black tights, a black and white polka dotted skirt, a black leotard type thing with safety pins in it, a black leather jacket and glove (singular), sliver rings, a black fuzzy hat with a black feather in it, long dangly faux-pearl earrings, and he had black face-paint stripes on his face and hands (which looked very odd over the old-people veins). Also a pink umbrella. There was a stodgy businessman type across the asile whose head kept sort-of turning and then whipping back like a typewriter (I'MNOTLOOKINGNOTLOOKING) and the old guy was staring at him like "You wanna take me on, huh? Huh?" and I was trying hard not to giggle. Then I went up to the old punk and asked if he was going to a costume party, but he said "just be yourself man, you know?" and mumbld a bit, so I sadly smiled and nodded and went on my way. It would have been really awesome if he was perfectly sane. It'd be like [livejournal.com profile] cadhla and her Glinda dress. Though I suppose people accept that sort of thing more readily from young blonde chicks than bald old men.

4. At the park, Avi and I were repeatedly barked at by the reincarnation of Robespierre. It was a very small terrier that barked as though it was giving a rabble-rousing speech - it kept turning its head and doing the Look: "I'm talking to you! Are we going to stand for this injustice? Death to the Establishment!"

5. This morning I sold bread to a walrus. YA RLY. The guy had this wispy mustache that reached down to his chin. He could've strained his soup with it!

Also, the slicer bit me again. And hopefully this entry won't be eaten AGAIN. rar.
bliumchik: (Default)
Link: http://www.livejournal.com/community/ghibli/133289.html

Wizard of Earthsea + Miyazaki = damn cool anime.

Anyway, I went to the psych this morning. So now, if anyone ever tells me I need my head examined, I can tell them it's been done. Yess.

You know how I always have sciffy narrative dreams? Well, now I've had a horror flick narrative nightmare. Getting kinda weird. There was this typical middleclass suburban (possibly American) family, mom dad two kids a bit older than me, and they all went undeadified for some reason. I remember the boy was the kast to go, he started to run and then he was engulfed in flame. So anyway, this family of the undead then started going round to people's houses and torturing them to death. I had a roaming POV, as usual. At one point i was this old man, and the mother looked at me with knives in her eyes, and he knew what was going to happen (I think it may have involved Corinthian-style eye-gouging), and he picked up a kitchen knife and stabbed himself in the chest but nothing happened, and he knew she wasn't going to let him die until she was finished with him.

Creeeeepy.
bliumchik: (Default)
Link of the day: http://www.b3ta.com/questions/weirdteachers/

Oh, how I laughed. Seriously, man, zombie sheep and bunsen burner tubing belts aside, that webpage is the funniest thing EVER. Why do the Poms get all the fun?

I just remembered that I was going to write about Saturday, but never did.

Long (long, LONG) story short, a bunch of peopl (EVENTUALLY) arrived at Avi's. Whereupon we noticed a strange coincidence - almost ALL of us were wearing black tops and jeans. Hmnmm, says we, haha. Then we played some poker. Little did we know...

First, Liza tells us that she and her mum had the same dream about a car accident. Weird. Then, Alex tells us that Polina had a dream about Liza helping Laivi kill himself... and Liza replies that she and Laivi were actually just talking about the couple who'd done the same thing. (My dream was about finding a lunchbox full of five cent pieces at a library booksale - not nearly so dramatic, but Avi and I were trying to do tricks with a five cent coing while waiting [and waiting] for everyone to arrive...). Huh... odd.

Liza then tells a funny story about discovering cicadas and frogs outside her house, and comments that she feels like Pharoah, with all the plagues (cicadas=locusts?), especially since there was that big storm and that was Darkness, right?

Me: That's funny - you need Joseph to interpret your weird dreams!
Liza: Like Laivi!
Me: No, Laivi would be more like Jesus, what with his beard and everything.
Sasha (from the other side of the room, during a lul and not replying to us): Where's the booze, man?
Alex, Liza and I look at each other. OMG.
Alex: Hey, Sasha, come here!
Sasha: What?
Us: You have to interpret Liza's dream!
Me: Yeah, she had this dream... so there was this farmer and he had these seven cows, right...


In conclusion, after Alex got Jesus and Joseph mixed up a bit, we agreed that someting psychic was going on, and then promptly forgot about it.
bliumchik: (vodka gods)
Your LJ Band by Karen_Walker
Username
Age
Name of your LJ Band
Guitaristjenninani
Bassistkksss
Drummercleolinda
Back Up Dancer 1sghs_formal
Back Up Dancer 2hesfb
Roadiewelovecooke
Groupiescifantasy
Stalkerrukis_croax
Quiz created with MemeGen!


I had a nice little chat with Delirium last night. I might have gotten half an hours sleep. Se managed to convince me that I was seven people, each responsible for a level of the skerry, and all the levels had to be let loose in the right order for the thing to die already so I could stop feeling like my spleen was on fire. But she lied, when I got to the last one I had to start all over again. It was dark and I was drifting, and at least I remember this one. It's what I get for reading A Game of You before going to bed with a terrible fever. When was the last one I had? I'm sure it was this year.

Hey kids, a public sevice announcement: vomiting sucks. Don't ever get bullimia. Vomiting REALLY REALLY sucks. When there's nothing left in your stomach you start vomiting up stomach acid, which burns your throat, and spasms aren't nice at all.

On the bright side, I learned something new today - when you start sweating it means the fever's broken and you can finally get some sleep. At nine thirty in the morning.
bliumchik: (Default)
It was my street, but it wasn't. Half of it faded into Default Suburbia, and the whole thing was in a valley. I was with someone who was Chloe and slightly Masha, and will hence be referred to as Chlosha. And everybody was dying.

It was like an Agatha Christie, the one with the little statues, and the island. People kept turning up gruesomely murdered, and there was no evidence. Just tangible panic. My house suddenyl had several apartments upstairs, and ours was ful of people - some of them lying in pools of blood. Downstairs, the living room was normal, and Neil Gaiman was sleeping in it.

We went to him for help, but Chlosha got paranoid and rigged up some kind of radio out of half a telephone and a stick. We sat half-way up the stairs and whispered. When I started rambling and telling Neil how we had made the radio, Chlosha pinched me until I stopped. We explained the situation, and he suggested we ask Adam and Eve, the middle aged couple in the apartment next to ours. So we went upstairs, and knocked on their door, and they were both hanging from the ceiling, their guts ripped out. We ran back downstairs, screaming, but Neil was being escorted out by guys in black suits and sunglasses, so we left the house.

Then I understood, and I had to get out of the valley. I ran up the street that wasn't afflicted by Generic Suburbia (it was like real life, only on a hill), but it was getting steeper and steeper and as I ran knife wounds opened in my belly, and I clutched them and kept running, staggering. I passed Chlosha, who was now a boy wit stumpy melting legs standing behind a wheelchair containing a pile of flesh which was also him. I urged him to run, he was almost out of the valley, but he just looked at me with sad eyes. So I went over the hill alone, and my wounds disappeared as spring ended.

I spoke to Madeliene, telling her I'd figured it all out, the plant was using us to breed. I walked behind a huge tree root and excitedly showed her the pollen mixed with the dirt, explaining how the plant used armadillos to sift through it, and what it did to us was how it cross-pollinated - but it was heavy pollen, that's why it stuck to the ground and why they needed the armadillo, and that was why it couldn't get out of the valley. Then she asked me if it had left scars, and I said no, I must have gotten out in time, and she lifted her shirt and showed me yellow flaps of skin hanging from her stomach like triple chins.

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