the backs of his hands were tattooed with ashes. stories, one over the next. fascinating, though i can't remember anything specific. he had a dauchund named seymour who began to shit on the carpet under the coffee table. i knew my mother would get mad if it were stained, so i picked seymour up and took him through the kitchen to the sliding glass door and put him outisde. i was wearing a woven white button down shirt, it had shit all over it. when i looked down, it was covered in chinese food as well, greasy beef noodles and green onions.... even worse. it covered my shirt and went up my neck and underneath and into my brassiere... this was the absolute worst |
awhile today,i didn't realize it was a dream. |