Blimps

If there was ever a vent to the duress that I live under each day, it has got to be my sleep. I am not a fitful sleeper. Far from it, I am a polite sleeper; one not to disturb one's daily healing process even if there were banshees screaming on my head.

The swallowed pride, the ingested hatered, the assimilated pain are all regurgitated and take shape in drifting fantasies. The sequence begins with an incineration of all thought processes going on. The mind melts as the soul takes control. CPU usage- O%

I had a surreal dream last night. One that Dali would be proud of.

I live in a red granite apartment block with crazy arches suported by sharp angular serrated grey granite columns. It spans four floors with four quarters on each floor. All the houses except mine and that of a crumbling old couple on the ground, have a uniform distribution of bawling babies. Like the orchestrated barking of dogs on the block; incomprehensible to you but profound underneath, they bawl.

It's a hazy dream. Like a faded postcard mauled by caring thumbs, the edges of my grey-gunmetal dream visuals are blurred. The peripheral vision nonexistent.

Yet!

Each angle on the peeling yellowed walls is etched. The block-facing park is in vivid dark-green. It is almost as if I dreamed in moonlight. I've always considered moonlight scenery to be inexplicable. The details are there but, very fleeting. There, but not there. It's a multi-colour world whitewashed inconsiderately.

I am on the rooftop. It's twilight and the TV towers in the north and west are cutouts of steel against a bleeding sky. The retiring sun descends down the skirt of the TV tower gracefully.
Blurry pigeons (or are they sparrows) drift across the sky. A wide expanse of concrete jungle meets my eyes.

And then it happens. Chilling. In a momentary lapse of somnolence, my subconsious can almost hear my teth grating. I see about 20 gigantic blimps shaped like The Hindenberg directly overhead accompanied by a flying sperm whale.

It banks suddenly and in a wide sweeping arc, it's tail thrashing the wind with brutal force dives on me suddenly. I can only stare in paralytic horror as as it's ugly stripe-face magnifies with each passing heartbeat. I glimpse huge filter teeth behind thick negroid lips and my guts go putty. From somewhere near a trumpets sound in my ear.

As the impending doom nears, I notice that the blimps are almost gone and are harmless polka dots on the still-bleeding horizon. The city block dissolves into thin air and I'm standing on a pole sufficiently high up, doing a David Blaine in the middle of nowhere. The malevolent sperm whale faces me square now amidst rolling acres of nothingness, or perhaps it's a corn field.

And then a terrible grating of metal against metal. The agonizing noise of metal in pain. And i see a giant towering robot, somewhat like that from the power rangers ascend on top of a hillock and dash towards me in a fury. The flinging arms and the fixed gaze send pulses of chills down my spine.

In a single herrculean leap it's metal foot smashes the whale's head and I feel my eyes coated with red grime. Through the red curtain of tissue I see that the robot is kneeling now and that it's eyes are not eyes at all. They are visors, like those of snake eyes from GI joe.

The trumpets sound again promising a climax at hand. The visor slides and ahuman face emerges.

It's the quondam maths teacher from the high-school.