Dreamed 1992/8/17 by Chris Wayan
I'm a kid again. I live with my parents in a basement apartment. We just rented or bought this drab damp place. I don't like it. It's been raining for days, I'm trapped in this dark cellar that reeks of mildew.
It leaks too--a liter or two a minute, during heavy rains! Sprays all over the mantelpiece.
My mom finds a stack of pictures on heavy paper--cardlike but bigger. She and my dad leaf through them. I say "Aren't you going to do anything about the leak?" Its spray is dampening the pictures. It'll flood the room quite quickly... how can they ignore it?
It sprays in my father's face. He ignores it. I repeat "What about the leak?"
Finally my father hears me, turns, says "That's nothing! You wanna see a LEAK? Watch THIS!" He snatches a bottle of red wine, chugalugs it, then cocks his head sideways, wine dribbling out onto his cheek like blood... Then SPRRRRRAAAAASSSSHHHTTTTT! He spews a mouthful of wine all over the rug! Pink spots bloom acroos the off-white... and wine-stains are nearly impossible to get out. Great.
I don't know if he's playing at being a disgusting drunk, or if he IS one. I feel ashamed. It's not just that it's gross, (and HE won't clean it up); but he won't fix the leak. He won't respond to the situation.
He's too busy spewing whine. I mean wine.
Indexes: Subject - Author - Date - Names - Places - Art media/styles
Titles: A - B - C - D - E - F - G - H - IJ - KL - M - NO - PQ - R - Sa-Sh - Si-Sz - T - UV - WXYZ
Email: email@example.com - Catalog of art, books, CDs - Behind the Curtain: FAQs, bio, site map - Kindred sites