Ambien zombies drive miles to urinate for an audience. Adolescent jackasses fake hate crimes to hide an accident from congregations.

The snow, falling gently, is beautiful.

In the dream, she choke fucked me with her veiny cock, while my father rambled about peace of mind. The house was subtly different than it was in real life, and I’m almost sure that the vagina wasn’t mine. I certainly didn’t feel anything other than the mild sensation of dislocated reality. Back to the old Emerson TV on top of the hope chest, no special additions, no central AC. Just the hum and clack of the mis-tensioned swamp cooler, and the pop of the engorged head as it came out of my mouth.

“Go ahead,” she cooed “take it all.”

The sky couldn’t decide how to treat us today, it first rained then snowed, then hailed and rained again, then as if to prove that man has no dominion over nature, the sun shone down minutes later.

He was concerned about how much noise was going to cost him in the end. He seemed to suggest that somehow the overstuffed pillow he held was the key, an answer. I just gestured that he was crazy, and she seemed to understand. He got up off the end of the couch and waved the pillow vaguely at the two of us; what a fun trio we made. The madman, the cocksucker, and the woman with the penis. Father, son, stranger.

I rarely speak in my dreams, but when I do it is of violence and anger. I did not speak at all this night, and it was a blessing.

The bus driver didn’t know the route. That was unnecessarily distressing. Who in their right mind would have both the north and south bound busses pick up at the same stop?

The whole of the dream leading up to my throat rape, I was worried that she would stop liking me, and I’m not sure why that is. The premise of the dream was that she called to essentially set up a time to come fuck, so I don’t know where the worry came from. Even in fantasy, I can’t escape my unhealthy relationship with familiarity, with relationship itself.

I took the key home with me. Somebody will be upset, no doubt.

I walked in the easy cool of the day from the heart of an industrial area to a utility pole infested with stinkbugs. I thought vaguely of making it to the porn shop, but I figured I ought to go ahead and let the dogs outside.

In the dream, I had actually overslept. I dreamed that I fell asleep, and that she never came over, but I edited it. My subconscious decided that for whatever reason, it was better for me to have her penis in my mouth, than live with the idea that I alienated her.

In reality, she and I are strangers, I neither know whether she has a penis, nor have any real romantic ties to her. My father is less crazy than in the dream, and the hot, cramped house on Toledo Street is thousands of miles away. The only real thing is me.

I woke up scared that she was going to break up with me. And alone.

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