Home * About * Subscribe by Kindle
Writers of the Apocalypse * My Music

Thursday, March 17, 2005


In my dream, I was standing in front of the back register in Boomtown. To my left, the voice of Britanniana talked to me. I forget our conversation, but somehow the subject of complements came up. To my right, where the doorway to the Jack's office would have been, stood the Jack. Instead of the door, there was a green wall. He was wearing his leather jacket and looked like he hadn't shaved in a day or two. He said to me in a flat, no nonsense tone, "You are beautiful." It wasn't You are beautiful, or anything like that. It was flat, as if he just wanted to get the point across with no emotion. "You are beautiful." He repeated himself a second time, "You are beautiful," while I looked at him. His way of going still so his eyes can capture you and hold you arrested my attention for a space before I turned back to the left to talk to Britanniana. I took the Jack to the grocery store today and told him the dream, sans the part about him complementing me. "That's about to happen," he told me, referring to the wall. "IT's not going to be green is it?" I asked. No, but its going to be a light color like that.