New Dreams

This dream is already broken; split in fragments and lost in repression. I was entering into a circus type scene--appropriate for Fat Tuesday. This was no ordinary circus because there was food everywhere. A behemoth, steel machine was pumping out noodles. I think it was for spaghetti.... There were buttons and knobs on it and there were several old operators in blue suits. My friend, the Italian named S, was wandering around inside the tent. I didn't seem to have any grand purpose at the circus that day. All that I know is that I was drawn to the center stage. I inched closer into the mad, furreling, sweating crowd--somehow the energy made me nervous. The stage opened up and I saw my friend...I couldn't believe it...Jeremy Tiedman, my basketball buddy, from 6th grade 3 on 3 tournaments, was doing gymnastics. Perhaps it was a strange form of Yoga. He was jumping off of his nose. His feet were warping around his body like a contortianist Somehow, his rubber-like limbs enabled him to literally jump off of his own face. As he bounced, his face was repeatedly smushed into a grotesque mask. This scene repeated like I was stuck in time--the recording somehow slowed down. From behind me, I heard a noise, the roof of the circus rended open to show the sky. It all split in half, exposed and then I woke up. No spaghetti taste in my mouth...nothing but an empty room.