Dream # 5 (circa 2009)

   I am stuck inside a burning down house and inside are a few of my friends. I found Ryan, he had inhaled a lot of smoke and now lays on the ground, just able enough to speak but not able enough to get up and move around for himself. As I approached him I noticed that just above his forehead, a large patch of hair had been shaved and looked quite bare and awkward. When I noticed this he said to me that Keely and Micaela had "taken it from him", I replied "So it looks like we'll just have to shave your whole head now!". "I know how to do it" I said, but Ryan still didn't want me to. I called to Linley who had actually only just appeared and I asked her if she would shave Ryan's head. She seemed sort of reluctant or dispirited about the whole ordeal, how I knew her to be at times. For one reason or another we just left and I carried her off into the next room which had already been abandoned, smoke and falling embers filled the room.

As I entered the room of smoke she was no longer in my arms and I was alone. I sat down at the computer where in the search bar it read:

NO--PORN--OR--VIOLENCE--HAS--EVER--BEEN--SEARCHED--FOR--HERE

I laughed at that statement whether or not it was actually true. A certainty of death had filled the air with ideas of "why not". I proceeded to look up pictures of naked people, some of them I even knew personally, and violent pictures and such. Linley enters the room at this point, swiftly and suddenly and sits on the chair with me and asks "what are you looking at?". Somehow the screen changes to results of a search less explicit, but in the search bar it still reads "PORN", I try to cover it with my hand.

Now I am outside and I am saving people from the towering blaze, the house/ building is several stories high and I must go nearer to the top than before in the elevator against wishes. As I arrive on the seventh or twenty-second floor the doors slide open and I am greeted with the thickest of smoke. Instantly I close my eyes, coughing, I feel the pain of being there so thick and harsh. Heat, billowing smoke in my lungs, I never leave that floor again. My friends waiting outside, I die inside, in here, in my dream.

Wrong Person

For many years now I have been receiving misaddressed emails. The people writing probably miss a digit or mistake one letter for another, and in doing so I have the unique fortune of sneaking a tiny peak into other peoples lives. I wonder if this is a common occurrence; do I have just the most generic email address? I suppose that could be it. If so then there might be others out there with their own folders for wrong emails that were sent to their generic email addresses just like me right? It can be the most liberating thing to happen to your email account; from deleting chain letters, unsubscribing to mailing lists, contending with the odd (or frequent) spam mail, so on and so forth; receiving mail that is not meant for you is a welcome change.

For the sole reason that I find it interesting and at times funny, but far from any sort of annoyance; I have decided to create a zine titled simply:

"WRONG PERSON"

 It will include some emails which I have received over the past couple of years, including any personal details disclosed in these peoples misguided correspondence.

If you are interested in owning a copy, please write to me at:

arogers88@gmail.com

Dream # 4

   Laying on a quilt, initially only large enough for a single person, soon it began to expand; square by square, inch by inch. Eventually this quilt grew to be the size of the living room it was floating in. All four corners of the quilt reached the four corners of the room. I lay in one square, the hundreds of other squares of quilt designated for one person each, though not anyone in particular. It seemed like the most beautiful math equation possible, or perhaps the only beautiful one. Only one other person appeared on the quilt, she lay right next to me in the neighboring square. The lack of distance fueled the eruption of playful talking. Side by side, the closeness wouldn't allow for anything other than romance to ensue. Our talking soon turned to affectionate playing, and then to kissing, a lustful progression. Never could we get close enough; trying to make two bodies one.  We laid together and no-one or anything else appeared on this floating mass of quilted red-and-white cotton fibers and designs; not a thing mattered. Suddenly sensing the presence of other individuals nearing; the one near to me, the person I was attempting to mesh myself into like two mashed potatoes, evaporated into the atmosphere. The shroud of fog that our romance was; a pool of humidity in a sea of cold air, ascended back into the clouds as daylight pried my weary eyes back open.