today was really just a waste in a sense. i spent most of the day walking around outside in black clothes too big for me and flopping shoes that did not fit. it was a nice day, azure skies, autumn breezes, and i spent it staring at the sky...

it is like living a life disjointed from reality and the society that we all must move inside, like ants in a farm.

ianthe is waiting to be born from my fetid womb...

do men ever dream of being pregnant? i dream of having a penis...so...

but i didn't dream of having a penis last night, just carrying a child in my womb...holding my bloated belly as something moved deep inside. i was about to give birth, the labor pains a distant nagging thought on the edge of my mind. i was dressed in virginal white, wedding gown of days long past, the lacy hem teasing the tops of my dried and dirty feet...as if i had walked a hundred miles down a dusty road to and from my home... i stood in a house surrouned by the blue mist of twilight tinted wildflowers...a farmhouse, i suppose, with a victorian touch. the ceilings were high and the floors were wooden and i stood near a tall casement window, gazing across a misty lawn to a red oak tree, the shadows underneath the crimson leaves as black as pitch in the evening hours...that glorious, gold/orange time when the sun is setting through the trees, bathing the mountainside in warm light and shrouding the valleys in blue...

the cats in the house brush against my dress, waiting as patiently as i am for that moment...crucial in the life of the child i carry in my womb, begging, twisting and thrashing to be born into this peculiar world... the cats are bounding around the wildflowers, skipping through the cool mist of evening, bobbing and weaving through the blue light of shadow...

waiting, ianthe is waiting...

in my dream the moment never comes...and the alarm sounds or the phone rings, i cannot remember which happened first...but it was a nice dream...the ambiance perfect, the temperature comfortable.