notes from a dream


It is a dark morning. Rain falling down. I look through the slats of the blinds. A woman is standing in a garden that seems unfamiliar to me. She is naked and her arms are held aloft. Her hands cupped to make a vessel. She is gathering rain water. To drink. To detox. An elixir. Her skin looks greyish blue.
My mobile rings. A man’s voice says you have to do something about your wife. I’m not married I tell him. He says, your wife is the garden, the other day she squats and pisses in front of me and my kids. She’s not my wife I plead. He asks me if she’s sick in the head because she appeared naked outside when his wife was gardening and when his spouse began speaking to her she crouched and shat on the grass. She’s not my wife. I am alone.
Alan, what is wrong. It’s your voice. I’m no longer in the room. I’m between two cars parked by a river. You are dressed in a black suit, black tights and heels with a very white blouse. You open the blouse and ask me to put my hand inside. Touch my breast. Feel that I am warm, you say. I am human Alan. Feel my heart. Record it. Listen to it everyday. Listen closely for a code. Ciphers of messages between us. Hear me. In your bath, on trains, listen to it as much as you can. Listen straight into your mind with headphones.
I sit in a room with a cat on my lap. I stroke it. I see a vision of the woman again. I still don’t recognise her. But if I’m honest I do. Though I can’t disclose her identity. I’m listening to your heart. I feel the pulse of my heart inside my throat. My mouth tastes dry. The cat’s coat is falling out. I drop clumps of it onto the floor. The carpet looks like a barber’s shop floor.
I stand with a woman. She drinks wine. Swirls it around her mouth. Kiss me. The wine tastes rancid on her lips and in her mouth. She smokes a cigarette and between inhalations she kisses me and blows smoke into my face. She traces her finger along my lips and into my mouth using saliva to make them moist. She rubs a habanero chilli along my lips and deposits it in my mouth. I close my teeth down on her hand but with no great pressure. She slaps my face and kicks my shin. The point of her hi heel breaks the skin. She sits on me as if I was a chair. I bite down harder. Did you feed me? Words that I can ingest. Digest morsels of our Selfs. Everything intensifies.


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