A gigantic green leaf covered tree erupted violently from the concrete floor of my parents basement. This basement is so real to me, I have so many solid memories from this basement. The exposed rafters have reached new lofty heights today. Why hello giant black man with a wizened face. You are quite tall. You can turn into a cat? So you can. How fun; you could show me that.
I'm not quite a cat, but I sure move like one. Up the walls, across the untreated lattice work hemming in the stair well, hanging from the reddened exposed wooden supports of the floor above me.
Standing in our driveway, the UN, the bad guys I think instinctively, patrol down the street. We must do something about this. To the left of the garage a throng of Haitians, black and wizened, all men, stand chanting. I can't understand them, they are chanting peace songs. This is a protest.
Teach men your ways, please; I beg. I don't understand; but I want to know.
11th street breaks apart and is washed away by a rushing river; it splashes up onto the driveway, offering up a bounty of fish to sustain us during our fight.
Trotting peacefully along a wooded hill top; me on a horse, Jen on a donkey. Her donkey, bucks, racing off. I see her tumble down the cactus covered hill side, bleeding and bruised. I race down the hill to find her; moaning just on the other side of a shrub wall. How did she get over there. She's not here; moaning over there.
We don't have time to make posters.
Searching frantically; I fear the worst: a wherewolf or zombie.
It's all my fault.
A horse, white and taller than a house leads an elegant white carriage. Are horses normally that size?
Two more horses pass by with single human riders dwarfed on their massive backs.
Oh yeah, they're always that size, comes the response.
Oh yeah, I remember...
A rooster crows.
A dog barks.
A guitar crashes.
A roommate snores.
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