8 December 2011
Cannot Light A Fire Without the Spark of Absinthe
Dreamtime. Do not have many I remember like last night's. It was a fire dream. Last time I had one of those was about ten years ago, a week before the loon Muslims dialled 911. The dream came to me in three installments.
I was at work in the first chapter. Operating millwright was over trying to set something right when we noticed sparks passing between my machine and a tool the millwright had laid right near it. The machine was hot, electrified. We backed away from it and as I ran to kill the power the machine began sparking like a motherfucker before it finally exploded sending flames, saw shrapnel and all manner of shit everywhere just before I reached the electrical panel.
Burned down the fucking mill before the fire department even arrived at the scene.
Guess I had to get a job after the mill burned down. Turned out that job was gas jockeying. There was a gas spill someone leaned into with a cigarette. You know how that goes. Had to get yet another fucking job. Guess I lost my own ride in the explosion so I was hitch-hiking. Got picked up by a nice enough couple, one of whom recognized me.
"Aren't you Mr. Beer N. Hockey?"
"Your writing reminds me of Don Doansie. You know Doansie?"
I did not.
That was when they both turned into aliens.
After I had turned down the aliens' job offer there was another fire. Three fire dreams in one night. Thinking I may have to lay off the absinthe for a while.