the animals are dangerous   I'm in a house at the edge of a river. There is a guinea pig running around. I am worried it will fall in the water and drown. There are lots of children about, as well as Phil, my former employer. I follow the guinea pig back and forth along the bank of the river. I pick it up and walk downriver a short way, and see an island in the center.

The river forks here, the water speeds up and tumbles over a small rise, trees are fallen and the island is muddy. A small shed is buried beneath leaves, trees and mud. I go in. The guinea pig is gone. Phil/George Clooney is there. There is mud everywhere. I pick up some muddy papers; glop falls to the ground. A suitcase is sticking out from under some branches. I open it - inside there are many photos of my mother with first graders, candy, mud-covered index cards. I look at the pictures for a while, then close the suitcase. Phil/George is gone.

Small fragments of what I see begin to flicker and shudder with movement. It is as though I can't focus my eyes on the scene in front of me. I realize that there are hundreds of small birds in the shed with me and they have long, sharp pointy beaks. They are getting ready to attack me. I run out of the shed, splash into the river, run back to the house where all the kids are. There are larger, house sized birds there. I keep running. Get to a building that is sort of like a toll booth, try to get through but I keep dropping quarters on the ground and the guinea pig, which I had apparently put in my shirt, runs away and photos of my mother are blowing out the door. I finally get through and into this building.

Immense floor to ceiling windows enable me to see what is going on outside: giant animals are milling around, not really malevolently destroying things, but destroying things nonetheless. A cat-man-wallaby-like creature bends down and peers at me through the window. (2002-01-16)
posted by yzzordorex on 2002-01-16
Comments
wow wow.
Giant Animals and Celeberty substitution...
what is it with the latter anyway? Why do our
imaginations cast famous people as friends?
Is it akin to when the ancients had dreams of
the Gods?

I think it bears looking into.
- coxmage on 2002-01-18
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