Sweven

No dreams recalled on the morning of the 9th.

September 10th

Stranger Party
Roused by shimmers of 'Sing around the Posy'. Know not where I am going or from where I have come. Sing our way to some stranger party. We never arrive.

Flickering Sea
Hundreds of candlesticks blaze cross twilit undulations of a clipped crop. On the fringe of this flickering sea of memories are faces. Some smile Some weep. Some seem asleep. Some stay as simple as sunless stones. I keep lighting fires.

Cast Away
Wind pours through labyrinth alleys. Like jilted rats, people scatter at sight of twisting grey. A baby is abandoned, blanket wound, near trampled. I carry the cast away. Barely elude the loveless stroke of seething heaven.

No dream recollections for the 11th.