When I do finally get to sleep, I’m assuming because of an odd mix of medications I’m having increasingly detailed and wild dreams, when I have the time I’ve begun attempting to record them – here’s the first part of the first one that I wrote down a few weeks ago..

The guardian of an infinite abyss.

The hot three pm sun was blinding and everyone had forgotten their sunglasses. Are turquoise tinged plastic bags cling and stretch around cardboard boxes that envelop our intended entertainment, the tram is steaming hot, but comfortable, the sun reveals and deepens the wrinkles and crevices marking the our company on the worn and economically stuffed bench.

The carriage screeches and careens down a through a small valley, in a seemingly tiny pocket of native forest secretively entrapped within the over enunciated and greying city. We’re headed to my place, in Caulfield, for an evening of drinking, an over excited beginning to a hopefully elongated evening. But the flora around us grows darker and we realize that we’ve somehow missed out stop. But never mind, the afternoon is ripe for walking and talking, laughing and reminiscing all of our hopes float and engulf us, bobbing along with us as if a cape of transparent marshmallow.

We hop off at the too soon arriving ‘end of the line’ and the trams a little suspiciously all of a sudden ‘not in service’, so we jump of, deciding we had better find some form of directions. The suburban homes around us are hipee inspired and bare sunburnt Tibetan flags, the trees have now transformed into mangroves, and sand fills the gaps on the side of my sandals, his hair shines intermittently in the windows in the overhead canopy. Our other friend, he’s not his usual outspoken self, as if acknowledging impending doom and horror to come.

The open glass door of a sliding partition invites us welcoming linoleum tabletop shelters a Kelpie cross who glances up at us, in an unexpected and unheard warning. We find a woman washing potato skin in a stainless steel sink, her hair is bleached, urine yellow and jaundiced, darkness erupting from her scalp. She turns to us, frightened as if bewildered by the occurrence she’s about to witness. We ask her for directions and she has no idea what we’re talking about, she mutter indecipherable low pitched sounds and flicks soap coated fingernails towards the entranceway that we’re now occupying. A deep and angered bellowing engulfs the room, exuding from a hallway vibrating with over compensated footsteps. He sees us, shock and hunger in his ochre eyes flash and concentrate, an explosion develops in slow motion. A hammer in his hand, I stand completely still while she’s screaming at my side. Time moves slowly like stop motion animation slowed down, a flicker book with an impaired hand. He strikes Michael’s head, who then falls to the acrylic carpeted floor, blood welling in his gelled hair.

We run and run and run. His hair moves like waves, in front of me, my breath can’t keep up, my chest constricts and I inhale in absolute desperation, we come to a clearing, a lake, and a cottage, a hundred cottages, a tiny town in side this growing darkness is illuminated before us and the air solidifies and freezes around us. Inside fire crackle and the amber lit, timber clad and panelled walls embrace us with deceptive warmth. There are Christmas decorations all around, fairy lights flicker and well in corners, hung from lampshade to lampshade, as if fireflies caught in a thick running honey. There is no point here that we consider Michael, bloodied and unconscious on a unrecognizable floor in an indescribable township far, far away. We’ve survived we are safe, for now, and that’s all that matters.

A party ensues, is it Halloween themed? Or just costumed? We’re underdressed but find comfort in overstuffed crimson hued armchairs. Dancers bare masks, beaded and glittering, disfiguring and disguising. We’re encouraged to join a conversation surround a man sitting in a solid timber chair, it looks as if to be carved from one single tree trunk, he’s wearing a red three piece suit and at first we assume he is just miniscule in stature because of the huge chair that he’s occupying but soon realize as he stands to greet us that he is merely waist height. He bares his teeth in an angular and sharpened smile, a grimace he soon understand is not for our benefit but our consumption. He lunges at us and we instantly simultaneously, instinctively move, like a pack of defeated   …


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