Thursday, April 13, 2017

in the dream

 i live in a loose community of post-apocalyptic highrise rooftop hotrod hodaddies.. the dead city (vaguely houston tx) has been converted into gardens and racing tracks using sections of the old road system.. in palapa-esque post-apocalyptic huts little psychobilly bands play and drinks are served, old movies are played on televisions.. i follow the narrative of two young friends as they take their monster truck into the outer jungle now simply called 'the urbo' where they scavenge computer parts and kitchenware, anything useful.. looking like ragged rockabilly zombis the two friends eventually leave the dirt paths entering the enjungled urbo and eventually their truck as well, and set out on foot into the lush mess. days later at the edge of a fetid swamp the friends find something strange.. resembling a cross between a termite mound and reims cathedral, the beautiful structure seems to be a protuberance from something more massive resident beneath the earth. finding a delicate and rather smallish entrance looking like a vertical eye the friends enter the hive. inside they find beautiful large stone hallways all perfect and new, graceful, clean and well lit and exquisitely gothic, and eventually a chamber with a large table set with strange food and dishes and beyond are set two enormous doors which subsequently open.. out of the dark come strange beings, all of them feminine, and seemingly drawn by the hand of lucas cranach the elder. nude and dark-skinned, and covered in soft-looking pale white fur, they surround the friends and chitter lovingly, speaking in a clipped musical tongue.. eventually, a taller woman steps through the crowd, who while very similar to the other beings seems slightly different, more intelligent perhaps, perhaps not, but different, her skin is lighter but of a greenish cast, and her fur is light red, or strawberry blonde perhaps.. she speaks in a heavily accented english: ve urr de teratessians, uv de narrikeen.. one of the friends bursts out laughing and says; hogballs in monkey boots, we've found the yeti-gal utopia, cookie monster! the woman smiles serenely but looks slightly disappointed.. y'all wanna go for a ride? says the other rockabilly zombi. some of the teratessians are giggling. the woman then takes out two small brooches from a beaded bag she wears on her delicate waist chain. like fragile jeweled spiders she attaches them to the foreheads of the erstwile visitors who immediately look up and begin to sing in perfect pitch, a winding entwined melody like an ornamental numerical sequence.. finally the rockabillies grow silent and ask quietly in one voice, may we join your argenthonio to study the ancient narrikeen? they are both given small red fruit-like funguses and welcomed into the hive with gentle caresses and singing..

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