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8:39 p.m. - March 07, 2002
eyelashes
dream: I was sprawled on the floor, chin in hands, in the centre of a room filled with musical instruments and roses, all interspersed with one another. I reached to pick up a golden trumpet and there was a rosebud protruding from the bell. A flute had a rose stem interwoven with its keys. I was barefoot, and I was wearing heavy flowing denim jeans and a silk shirt, and beneath my feet roses were growing, snaking their way in between my toes, but the floor was wood, not dirt. I turned away from all the gold and silver and crimson surrounding me and looked up, the only safe direction in which to look. There was a circle of light far far above me, too far away to be a halo and too close to be the sun. It looked like a showerhead, and suddenly it WAS a showerhead, letting loose its beads of cool water into my hair and eyelashes, but only my hair and eyelashes, nothing else.

 

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