My Unconscious Is Fascinated With Murder & Sewing, or, Murder & Sewing Dream #2 This Week
I'm just off the square in Sullivan, my hometown, walking with Jill Farris†, when I see a sewing shop. I go in to buy needles and thread. The needles I choose are cheap, 80 cents, in a small plastic vial labelled by an old woman's shaky hand "Attic" and "Apples" (the two words shift as I study the vial) and preserved in formaldyhyde. When I twist the lid of the vial open, the previous owner appears in my mind, a fat old lady clad in red velvet, her hands in knitting position, her face like Queen Elizabeth II. I pry a needle out. Although they seemed to have eyes before, they are now nothing more than hairpins.
* * *
Jill & I open the doors of a small, busy cafe with lots of light, and head to where we were sitting two nights prior. To our surprise, the table had not yet been cleared. It was littered with chunks of pie, greasy napkins, and a ton of cash - there must have been $2000 there - where it came from, we couldn't remember.
* * *
Two nights prior we were sitting at the table with several others, including Onur∞. He was in drunk and laughing with his mouth wide open, and he invited all of us to come back to his house for Ouzo. I declined, because my boyfriend wanted to go home, but Jill accepted. Somebody offered to pay the tab, which looked like this:
_____________
xjiod 12.95
xjiod 12.95
cjioge 5.95
huio 5.95
huio 5.95
huio 5.95
huio 5.95
huio 5.95
guiue 10.95
guiue 10.95
guiue 10.95
guiue 10.95
cjiges 27.95
ceghx 25.95
cugyy 29.95
yrteuy 33.95
ghie 1.95
ghie 1.95
cgheh 1.95
cgheh 1.95
eoir 1.95
murder 290.00
______________
* * *
The tab was limp on the table and my stomach was queasy. I pocketed the cash, took the tab, and went to the register. "We'll get rid of this," I said to Jill, who had murdered Onur two nights ago for motives unknown and unquestioned. The woman behind the counter rang up our order and told us we'd have to wait until the Police Chief arrived for questioning because we were being held as murderers.
"You know, I went straight home. I had nothing to do with this," I said. "What are you going to tell them?" I was afraid that we'd have mixed stories, as you hear about so often in books and movies, and they'd catch us.
She rolled her eyes at me but said nothing.
"I'm going to tell them I went home," I said. I could tell she wasn't pleased with my decision and wondered if she'd murder me, too.
* * *
I walk outside to have a smoke (all I can find are crumpled, thin cloves in a Camel Wides pack). The cafe's exterior has turned into a grassy patch where lots of teenagers are hanging out, leaning on each other and the ground. A little girl with a hose complains that her feet are dirty, a teenage girl wearing a very fancy dress comments that kids shouldn't think such things, and the little girl turns the hose at me, chasing me back inside.
†I knew this girl from the age of 6. We were very good friends with a larger group of girls until junior high, when I was chosen as the group's outcast, deemed a slut, and put into popularity exile. While my current self thanks her/them, my junior high self missed her old friends. Jill still frequently appears in my dreams.
∞Fellow grad assistant at EIU.
* * *
Jill & I open the doors of a small, busy cafe with lots of light, and head to where we were sitting two nights prior. To our surprise, the table had not yet been cleared. It was littered with chunks of pie, greasy napkins, and a ton of cash - there must have been $2000 there - where it came from, we couldn't remember.
* * *
Two nights prior we were sitting at the table with several others, including Onur∞. He was in drunk and laughing with his mouth wide open, and he invited all of us to come back to his house for Ouzo. I declined, because my boyfriend wanted to go home, but Jill accepted. Somebody offered to pay the tab, which looked like this:
_____________
xjiod 12.95
xjiod 12.95
cjioge 5.95
huio 5.95
huio 5.95
huio 5.95
huio 5.95
huio 5.95
guiue 10.95
guiue 10.95
guiue 10.95
guiue 10.95
cjiges 27.95
ceghx 25.95
cugyy 29.95
yrteuy 33.95
ghie 1.95
ghie 1.95
cgheh 1.95
cgheh 1.95
eoir 1.95
murder 290.00
______________
* * *
The tab was limp on the table and my stomach was queasy. I pocketed the cash, took the tab, and went to the register. "We'll get rid of this," I said to Jill, who had murdered Onur two nights ago for motives unknown and unquestioned. The woman behind the counter rang up our order and told us we'd have to wait until the Police Chief arrived for questioning because we were being held as murderers.
"You know, I went straight home. I had nothing to do with this," I said. "What are you going to tell them?" I was afraid that we'd have mixed stories, as you hear about so often in books and movies, and they'd catch us.
She rolled her eyes at me but said nothing.
"I'm going to tell them I went home," I said. I could tell she wasn't pleased with my decision and wondered if she'd murder me, too.
* * *
I walk outside to have a smoke (all I can find are crumpled, thin cloves in a Camel Wides pack). The cafe's exterior has turned into a grassy patch where lots of teenagers are hanging out, leaning on each other and the ground. A little girl with a hose complains that her feet are dirty, a teenage girl wearing a very fancy dress comments that kids shouldn't think such things, and the little girl turns the hose at me, chasing me back inside.
†I knew this girl from the age of 6. We were very good friends with a larger group of girls until junior high, when I was chosen as the group's outcast, deemed a slut, and put into popularity exile. While my current self thanks her/them, my junior high self missed her old friends. Jill still frequently appears in my dreams.
∞Fellow grad assistant at EIU.
1 Comments:
When I dream of numbers and lists, it looks a lot like what you wrote. I am oddly pleased to see that murder costs considerably more than a pint of stout, even in your dreams. Poor Onur. I knew him (kind of).
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