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I found this typed badly and folded in one of my journals between the pages of August 21-22, 2018
no title but I remember the dream. I dreamt I was laying on a bed in a strange house. All these people were there, strangers. I am ill I think. A woman is trying to pierce my left ear with a needle. I swat her away like a fly. There is a room with a door closed but people keep opening it. The room is flooding, everyone is oblivious. They stand around in ankle deep water casually like they are a cocktail party. They speak over my head as if I am not there. "She is so thin" says one man. "Look at her eyes" says another. I tell them to shut the door but no one listens. The water keeps coming. A man places a piece of fruits on the bed at my feet. I am an altar and this is my death party. My Mother is the only person there that I know. She urges me to drink a bottle of bleach. I only pretend to drink it and that seems to satisfy her. Sometime earlier in the dream I recall having to help her find rent money
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AuthorMichelle Tinklepaugh Archives
June 2023
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