Sometimes I think it doesn’t sound right. There’s something missing.
This has been going on for years. Until today, when I realized what’s missing is volume with a v. So I’ve been trying it out all day, turning it up and aiming for the ears. Even my ears were in this dream I had this morning…
Never mind, I’m not going to share my dream. Nobody likes hearing people’s dreams.
Dreams don’t translate into narrative. Music gets the point across, then ushers it into chaos. Chaos is the breakfast of choice for Michaelangelo Green. Everywhere in Green’s Theology of Chaos is evidence that music is better than dreaming. Is it better than coffee? Coffee will put you into the day in a crazy way. It’s all too much sometimes, back and forth the metronome arm, left to right; hypnosis, lucidity.
Anyway, this dream, my ears were floating and flapping over a lake of fire, the lake of fire; weeping and gnashing, and floating floppy ears. Elephants can’t fly with these sort of ears, and I couldn’t hear, at least not in the right way. Each lick of fire triggered an inner scratch and thump, a deafening burst of volume. My ears were not attached to my head and I could barely see. Sight and sound both flickering with rupture and gain as I fell through the fire forever.
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