Recent DJ Posts

What the Feck!
Discussing dreams and reality checks. Kay laughs out, "What the Feck. What the heck and what the fuck mixed. What the feck! Reality check! For those WTF moments." It should work. Rhymes have a way of worming into simple brains like mine. We test her spell. Surprise! "We're in a dream! It works!" I cheer with childlike glee. A sudden swell of clarity. And then, because no dreams were recalled during earlier wakings, a passionate declaration, "I'll remember ALL my dreams if I wake up right now!"

I woke and dreams came flooding.

Nov 6th
Hypnagogia
-Malformed face wrapped in flapping strings
-A ring from which hangs dangling eyes

Three Games
Teachers, long lost friends, long tossed family restore faith in humanity. It is rekindled through three games: one of words and wit, one of dice and seeds, one of cards and dreams.

The Fountain
She strips away the lawn and sows a tapestry of life. In its heart her self carved fountain sprays wild water whips. "I can help," I offer. She grins, "Thank you but no. This is my lesson to learn." Nod. Depart. Glance back at the mistake. Water droplets dance like jewels across the blazing blue. Shy little rainbows shimmer midst the butterflies and blooms. Leaves and limbs shimmer. Winged and wondrous sing. From a step outside, realize, mistakes might make precious things.

The Flood
From school into a surging storm. Wade through sunken streets to sinking steps. Daughters are frantic about the rise. Sons are fighting and fierce. A man butterfly-strokes down the middle of our river-street. Laughter. Crinkled petals and crusted leaves are thrown into the flow. Hope is floating. Hearts are high. We know this too shall pass.

Moonlight & Monsters
Neath a single basement window, in a slant of silver night, I sit. I ache. I write. Weep with silent, searing love. Spill a soul across a page. Worship she, so high above she walks on mithril moonlight and is spun in star frost lace. What? Whisper on a window. Little robins die. Soul is tossed aside. Scramble into night. But oh, a stomach twists. Orc heads roll and rot, overflowing window well. Dare to pick through lips, fangs, and froth to rescue fledglings from the frost.

Media-opoly
From board, to web, to wave, to page, then to social constellation. A game of a thousand rules with a hundred ways to lose and only one way to win. Debating scores raises wars.