Sometimes I imagine it is this like gigantic bank vault door something three feet thick and cold. And of course I want to open it up because there is fucking money in there and shit.
But when I open it, sort of just crack it a bit, there are all these screams and smells and half rotting arms, (in my dream they are always gray and Thriller like) flaying around and reaching out from the crack and they are just fucking grabbing and searching and tearing as if the palms had their own eyeballs, faces and teeth… I don’t waste time and push all the weight of me against the giant metal amalgam of a door and for a brief moment I see a spatula cutting sausages in half on my frying pan, I push and want to cut all these arms off, I want to fucking pinch it off like a turd… there is bad stuff in there. Let’s close that fucking door I say!
But a part of me wants to go back with flame throwers and bleach bottles. Open-stand back, burn, melt, ash, scoop and take out the trash… but you can’t take out this sort of trash because it is like radioactive, it is contagious, just opening up the door has all those crazy things attached to it, I mean, to open the door, enough for a flame thrower or a car bomb a stick of dynamite could be enough to let it out. All those arms and teeth and zombies of sorts, it would be like 28 days later.
And just let’s say that you succeeded then what? You just can’t keep that shit around, you can’t bury it, perhaps you could invent a rocket that would shoot it into space… but I mean how would you be absolutely sure that there was no trace at all left behind?
Some kids you know have their own safes, and they open them up like Christmas presents, some parents play games and have them search them out like Easter eggs and shit. Really make them work for it… but all the aces are there.
I awake, roll over and kiss Kim and tell her about this dream I had and she kisses me back.
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