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Probably some horrible deep rooted brain disease for staying inside too much but i have had a lot of dreams where im in a house that doesn't make structural or, well, any sense. Every surface of this one is covered in shaggy orange carpet, i had a rat as a husband, just a normal sized rat. We were in a dysfunctional relationship, i moved into the spare room and one night it grew an empty water well in the centre- when i looked down it i saw a whole road,a really thin rural forest street with various shitty shacks that housed these thin white mole people. They would scream about how hungry they were at lunch every day since they moved in & id have to prepare something. was slicing a comically large christmas ham up in the kitchen when it started to get stuck, like id put too much weight on it and a third of it would phase through and fuse into the cutting board and i couldn't get it out so i kept trying to cut it and it kept going in deeper, tried to get it out the other side by continuing to cut at it but when it came out it clipped right through the kitchen counter like it wasn't even there and i near instantly hear a large thump on the above floor like it had somehow landed up there, i go upstairs to see that my rat husband WAS cheating on my with a beautiful mouse woman, but had been stopped in the act by the comically large christmas ham landing on them both. I roll it over and see theyve fused with the ham like the cutting board had before, it looked like roadkill, not in the sense they were dead.. they were very much still alive and somehow still going at it- but as in the skin of their heads and genitals were contorted and squashed over the surface of the ham, they were totally crushed in it but not in a physically possible way, most other parts of their body phased into the ham like how .. you know when youre watching a show and a still of the last frame in a scene glitches into the next and you’ll see someone's body with the last scene imposed onto it move and take the image with them? That's the best way i can describe what was happening, half beaten & half impossibly writhing within the atoms of the ham. It is totally ruined, entirely unrecognisable and especially unappetising now- combined with rat, mouse, and thick horrible excrement from the two. I hit the big soggy thing and it pulses, the rat and mouse scream and start trying to scamper away, cracking and gurgling as they attempt break themselves out of the ham running away, it barely goes anywhere and i leap at it and grab the section of the rat thats as out of the ham as a fused rat in a ham is with my fist, squeezing until it pops, its whole body explodes and ruptures through the ham like a vein of the thing i can barely see now but the horrible squealing and pulsing get worse and my head hurts from everything. Waking up after that is the least energised ive ever been to start a day.



well i didn’t ..personally.., i was on a bus.. was the only one to get out to check on him and got blamed for it.. everyone was like. hey man . not cool.. that’s john you ran over, he has a gig tonight that’s fucked up you’re so irresponsible,, you gotta sort this shit out. how the fuck do i do that when on impact he had just exploded, and now he was this collection of 50+ lumps of fatty flesh. i tried to put him back together.. it was all in real time and the pieces of him kept jiggling around in my hands he was so difficult to sculpt into some semi consistent but at least together; mega lump of pendulous flesh. i rolled him like a dung beetle would all the way to the venue and on stage. cheering cheering everyone was cheering he was BACK!!!! then the first song started and he couldn’t preform he sort of violently shook and pulsed and jiggled some more, made a low wet gurgle.. BOOO BOOO everyone was booing at him they hated him this was the worst performance ever, throwing drinks at him, screaming, shouting. he’s pulsing faster and tears are flowing out of his pores, and i know he hates me.



when i was really sleep deprived, dealing with the torture of choosing almost every art project for my final year of highschool i’d set alarms on the weekend to get up as my body clock was so fucked up id need it or id sleep all day.. this would work.. occasionally hear them and delusionally think The Sigmund Freud was Calling Me. i’d “message him back” (picking up my phone to turn off my alarms) before going back to sleep again.. he was begging me to help him.. he was distraught and wanting to kill himself.. and he was Desperate for ME. i kept "apologising for falling back asleep" (hitting the screen of my phone attempting to type, turning off my alarm) and "he" (my phone) was "getting increasingly mad at me" (my alarms were doubling up, erupting into bongos, radars, motorbikes, telephone rings at the same time while violently shaking- whatever i thought would have woken me up was now Freuds screams and pleas for help). this went on for over an hour before i got too tired to respond to Freud’s Calls and woke up multiple hours later with a pit in my stomach totally convinced i had cold heartedly let freud Kill himself.

id have other ones along similar lines.. he wants me.. for some reason.. telling me he needs help with his maths homework.. telling me he was doing a lecture and was nervous.. needed support.. ALL. THE. TIME. he also used to brag to me whenever he got something i hadnt.. as if he wasnt constantly desperate for my help. he "got the golden ticket to CERN" and was bragging about how the large hadron collider was "ALL HIS!" and if i wanted it id have to swim all the way over to geneva, switzerland and take it from him.. whatever man..