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Off morning.

I had a strange waking dream--I think I was probably a middle-age mom in a low-rent apartment/tenement in NYC. The super of the apartment was really falling down on his job--rats and vermin everywhere, but strangest of all, tunnels torn through the flimsy construction materials so that each wall, floor, ceiling had about a fist-sized hole--I assumed it was rats.

It turned out, over the course of some investigation, that the super had made some sort of deal with some local urban spirits, like house gnomes but scummier, lead by...well, I wasn't clear what they were led by, but the super seemed to be dead or missing (probably because of the actions of the spirits), and the building was setting up a pretty nasty health code thing, so for the good of my family and neighbors, I decided to make nice to the spirit. So I went to one of its hundred little holes--like a rat-hole near the ground--and said some vague "offerings to the spirits" sort of thing.

The lead creature responded, asking more or less if I would obey its rules while I lived under its roof, and demanded that I seal the bargain with a kiss. Its jaws appeared in the narrow window of the rat hole, with teeth like a rat's jaws carved from sheet metal, foaming a bit and with some--uh, moist--coughing. So, trying not to be too disgusted, I kissed the beastie, not knowing what it was, and moved on.

Time passed, and things returned to only foul, not life-threatening, and I met the creature--most of its body was a jaw-droppingly handsome nude male (okay, well, I *am* gay...), but those teeth and distorted mouth, frightening black eyes, and hands ending in weird, semilovecraftian tendrils. It was explaining its origins to me (something about a wandering sideshow sort of life, but then made a deal with supernatural entities...) then I woke up.

One of the stranger things about this dream--and again, lately, I've been having dreams with high budget for special effects, good scripting--dreams that have been playing themselves out like movie scripts--was that this one had a score. Background music that surged and ebbed with the tension of the moment. Weird.

God, he was hot, though, except for the tentacles...

The morning proceeded mundanely after that, except that I tried to clean the hair out of the hairbrush I use when I'm showering, and it was a 10-minute excercise in frustration and bladed instruments.

Comments

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
paka
May. 17th, 2007 07:31 pm (UTC)
Oooh. Could I draw this up, or something really similar?
spottylogic
May. 17th, 2007 07:39 pm (UTC)
Sure, but I'm reserving the printed medium rights :) I'm thinking that it might not make a good short story, but as an extended poem, a la "changing light at sandover," maybe...
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )

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