The man in my dream has an acquired egg. He smirks when we correct his English. “I meant an acquired egg, like acquired taste. Not that I have acquired an egg.” He tells us in a tone you use to talk to a stubborn five year old. We ask him what that means, because it sounds like a lot of fluff.
He ignores our question. He holds the egg up in the air. It is pale blue, like the clear sky. I reach out to touch it, but he doesn’t let me.
“He took a fairy tale and ran with it.” Someone tells me. He hears that and begins to run.
Run with it. Run with it. Run with it.
We run after him because if at all acquired eggs are a potential sensation, I’d like to be a part of this experience. He doesn’t stop until we reach a playground with doctors. It’s some kind of a medical camp with Ferris wheels.
My sister is there. She is wearing a coat and a straw hat. She looks at the acquired egg and says, “Please don’t touch that. There is Tuberculosis Bacillus everywhere.”
Then there is darkness.
He ignores our question. He holds the egg up in the air. It is pale blue, like the clear sky. I reach out to touch it, but he doesn’t let me.
“He took a fairy tale and ran with it.” Someone tells me. He hears that and begins to run.
Run with it. Run with it. Run with it.
We run after him because if at all acquired eggs are a potential sensation, I’d like to be a part of this experience. He doesn’t stop until we reach a playground with doctors. It’s some kind of a medical camp with Ferris wheels.
My sister is there. She is wearing a coat and a straw hat. She looks at the acquired egg and says, “Please don’t touch that. There is Tuberculosis Bacillus everywhere.”
Then there is darkness.
No comments:
Post a Comment