Dreams, spontaneous mummies.
zaoyi
I had the dream that I was still living in a barrel building, lying on my bed, looking at the ceiling, with a large whale in the ceiling, deep colour, with no boundaries between my air and whale water, as if we were the same creature. Although he was on the ceiling, he moved at a very limited altitude and lived in a very small space, like a paper balloon that could not fly out and was flat. He suppressed me far from him with the colours of his deep sea, so I couldn't move, confined to my bed in large fonts, so it seemed to be stretching, and it felt that the water was all over me.
Many years later I remembered the static fear of the dream, which turned into a whale's perspective and saw a man whose dream was sealed in his bed. When I was a kid, I snuck into the cinema and saw a white girl with a needle all over her body, and there was no such self-enclosed look - a spontaneous mummies. I looked forward to seeing how this dream would happen if he were to rise to his fears, so I tried to make it right. But dreams don't follow my wishes, dreams never follow the ditch I dug up. In pursuit of this dream door, many strange doors were opened.
Like being shot in a dream. I went to get breakfast, and then I got caught by a soldier on the road. In any case, I chose to run between running and not running, but every time I saw him aiming at me, I could see a mirror moving towards the crosses. It's been a long time since I was hit, and the last moment was unexpected.
And for example, in a running car, a car without a driver. I was forced to sleep on a copilot in a dream. I'm burning in my dreams. Am I in that car? If so, why is it being manipulated? I'm still conscious that this car hasn't hit anything, that it hasn't stopped, that I'm not dead. I was sitting on a co-pilot and I woke up a few times, but it was so soft, it was like the orchids that were swayed by the wind, and I looked at them, and I wasn't dead, so I went back to sleep. It's a dream too. It's a second to die.
And like walking with a big snake in the golden hall. It's like it's always at my feet, knowing where I'm going, but it's finally opening up my mouth and bit my feet. It's very illogical, but it's got its feet in it and it's gonna bite it. I've actually had a lot of these dreams. Cats and dogs have my feet. I can feel the warmth of its open mouth. This is the dream, come again. Should I bite off my foot? Only the cat and the dog bite. I woke up, but the snake didn't. It's a tiger. I had to look at each other, not talk, and the atmosphere couldn't breathe, which was more exhausting than the dream of flying.
And for example, the dream of operating a Barbie doll of real size. They were all wearing particularly sophisticated dresses and had many display cabinets in the walls inside and outside a purely white operating room. I'm a doctor, but I don't know how to give them, why to operate them. It's scary to wake up, but it's new and it's not scary.
And like the dream of a prison in a subway with cardboard. I broke the law, and the cell was in the corner of the subway in a pile of paper shells, in which the world was actually very good, with a soft orange bed, and I was able to draw randomly in the walls of the paper-shell world, except for the sound of constant treks coming in. My mother visited me occasionally, but she only came for a few minutes to feed me with a little hole dug out of a paper shell like a dog hole and told me to fix it and don't do anything.
At this point I have no confidence in the authenticity of these words. But I have a hunch that this is actually the dream of different time and space. It's still the spontaneous mummies. I like to dig my own brains out, one layer of antioxidation. I wonder if I would really change this mummified act if I did more courageously in reality, but my fantasies are all shrouded in my dreams, afraid of self-obsessed self-loathing, and afraid of the desire for such fear, perhaps incest with my mother.
Writing this bullshit won't shake any of my tendency to dry up, nor will it be easy for any second of my life to go deeper into my dreams, in the new wasteland, in pieces, in my sleep.