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Faux Blog

excerpt from phased_from_reality's journal at Blog Nation:

His name is Max and he came to me in a dream.

I peeled onions like bugs on a window, roasting like a dog on a sidewalk. Falling forward into the pit of demons with tiny pitchforks dancing about like a zombie rave. Music pulsating like blood through veins, rejuvanating the likeness of youth.

Me: You are who you say you are?
He: I am who that person that I introduced you as.
Me: Why are you doing this? Why this confusion?
He: Why not.

Replied said and done like a serving of dinner. An awkward eternity before the sun rises again for the third time in this portion of the dream. Lucid dreaming, a sea of possibilities?

Me: Who is scanning the spectrum?
He: I can't answer that.
Me: Why can't you?
He: I'm afraid to.

Acts go by, with the same scenes played out over and over. A record skipping is a thing that has to be heard, unlike a cd player. Bring in the old school, learn from the new and together we shall bond as one.