Last Night’s Dream

It was a hot night, I think. I stepped into the upstairs washroom, but it was different. The walls were yellowing with age, tiles encrusted with black spores. It was steamy. The floors were sopping wet on my bare feet. I had the feeling that this was my doing, that I’d let the shower run and run forgetfully. Someone was calling to me, or I was calling to someone. I noticed my hair straightener plugged into the wall, low, low to the ground. It was stretched across the room in front of me. I felt like I needed to pick it up. There was an urgency. And then the sparks came and the electric currents ran across the flooded floor and up through my veins. My body was shaking and convulsing but I couldn’t move. It was so bright, my eyes were blind to all else but that blue, white light. And then somehow I stepped out of it, like the energy was done with me, or like I’d conquered it. I wish I knew why.


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