2016-09-26 - 9:50 p.m.
#Dreams are where my heart aches:
I dreamed of old 1040 last night. Currently a corpse of a house with her walls broken, her water turned off, her power ripped out. But, in the dream, I had only cut holes in the floor. I hadn't yet taken her joists out or even moved the furniture. The walls were still up and there were pictures still hung in the upstairs bedroom.
While I stood in the backyard, an old acquaintance stopped by to inquire about renting the house for September. I had to embarrassingly apologize. I had to tell her I had forgotten: the place was being torn down any day now.
Walking down the now carpeted stairs, I mentioned to my mom that the carpet had come back where she had torn it up a decade ago, there it was: olive green in the dream while brown in reality, shag-like carpet with geometric patches cut off the corners of the stair treads.
Then in the corner I found some bottles of cherry wine from who knows when. From some time in the past when friends flowed and cherry wine followed. Lifting one bottle to the light, I saw a parasite at the bottom of the thin, bright red liquid. Its body, pale-beige and sick, lay limp though I still warned those around, "Don't touch it or it will get into your skin." Then I poured the bottles out onto the hardwood and watched as the parasites laid themselves out, like overcooked noodles.