Ptitchitza u niskom letu

The Dream

She hugged me at the door.
She left in a complicated anger.

In my 13-hour Quest for the Accommodation in the Realm of the Unconscious, she came back to me at least three times:

As My Life's Ambition.

There was an apartment. The staircase was dirty (s malim govancima!).

There was a classroom. Teachers were some street-wise guys. Pupils were small cute children practising being Human Animals. I was happy.

In the backyard, children are burrying a mouse in a small rake. I go fetch my metal box with Secrets. It's all organic, except for Salo-tape in which it's wrapped. The Teacher, some woman, refuses it. I'm naked, I have no secrets, just u fucking rain-coat. It's not a grave, I see: there are two hamsters, working together in consolidated effort to clean it and everybody's watching.

There are two dogs on the island, and they take care of me. They are somewhere else now that I'm standing on the top of a high building, confident and careless on the edge. A powerfull wind hits me and a moment of terror splits me in half:

FUCK, THIS IS IT THIS TIME I'M DEAD.

But I'm not. Two dogs are lying on the floor in front of me, facing each other. Actually, it's only one head there, with blue and green hair interwoven. They have human-like feet: one's are straight, the other one's like two mirror horizontal Ls.

Maria is alone, sad, shrunk in a chair, watching TV in a Bouman shop at the corner. I stop for a moment, at the street. Someone tells her I'm there.

She straightenes herself out.
I continue hastily down the street.

Before that, I had to press Ctrl-U on the mobile to see a red heart confirming she'll be there & then.

Let's get well, mi amor.
You and me,
W 2 R 1

Like Martin Buber said.