tblanco

I'm living in a guest bedroom at Mrs. E's house. She has taken up with a new boyfriend. This is a hyper, anxious black guy with a mullet and all he wears is black spandex biking shorts. I'm lying on a bed still made quietly when he comes in the room to clean, he's talking to him self and running all over the place with a feather duster, less as if he's dusting and more as if he's searching for something. Later that day I tell R that I think his mom's new BF is probably a drug addict and I think he was looking for his meth in my room. (dream me is a little racist this morning.)

R laughs and says "that's crazy". We are hanging out in the kitchen. 70's style with round table in the middle of the room with a plastic floral print green tablecloth.

Suddenly there's a fire. People aren't noticing it a first because it's happening between the walls and I can only see it as if behind a sheet of white paper. I can however smell the smoke and hear the crackling embers. "guys look, THE HOUSE IS BURNING DOWN!"

Now everybody is standing on the front lawn and we are watching the house burn down. The crazy BF is nowhere to be seen anymore. Mrs E says "but, he was here just a second ago." I can feel the cool grass beneath my feet and between my toes. It is a very bright green.

Then a fireman comes out of the house holding a glass stem burnt black. "It looks like this started the fire" Mrs E wants to know what it is; the fireman replies "it looks like a crack pipe, not that I've ever smoked crack." we all look at him funny.