I had a dream that was not all a dream.
As if in a thick fog, I saw people walking with disfigured faces. Their eyes, ears, tongues, noses and skin were stitched closed with thread.
Like mannequins, or reanimated dead, they moved following the pulling of these threads. Everything grey and silent they moved to an invisible call, their loose strands streaming before them as if in a strong wind, like a streamer caught in a fan.
Bound at the five sense doors they were, and it seemed a nightmare until I spied one in the grey, lifeless automaton crowd with his colour intact and his eyes wide open.
Old and slow, yet unmoved by any wind. Even though he was bent and small I thought he was straighter and taller than all the rest. No threads; this man was free. I hope this man is me. He was beautiful.
No comments:
Post a Comment