dream-talk

DAVID BAILLY
Dutch, 1584-1657

dreams, lately, have been stranger than usual.

i was asked to repent by an old nun, and i was lifted (saved, stolen?) by invisible strings. then became invisible, floated and flied about in a foggy, wet, mean forest..."the cruelest joke," i called it.

in another, i was in a color-saturated urban city... small, rusty orange cars with bubbles emitting out of them. i was running down a steep hill under a massive concrete bridge that was withering away beautifully... fungi envelopping its grey columns.i was disappointed. i can't tell you why

i forget the other one.