So I Met Your Wife Last Night

In the dream, I was inside a room made of flesh.

When I ran a finger across one wall, it throbbed.

When my companion cut into it with his sharp nails, it bled.

Then I was with my boss and my office mate, both of whom were in deep conversation in one corner of the flesh-room. When I joined them, I discovered that they were both Not-There: these were simply stand-ins, shadow figments from another dimension who had come here to discuss the fate of this room.

I like it.

I do too.

Then it's decided.

We'll turn it into a monument.

I emerged from the room, exiting up stairs made of teeth, out into a large, lovely garden. It was spring there, with pink and orange hibiscus in full bloom, and wild daisies pushing through the soft loam. An old man came up to me and said, would you like to help me water these beauties? All of his front teeth were missing so the wind whistled in his mouth as he spoke. I replied yes, of course, then he took my arm (his hands felt rough and gnarly) and directed me towards a patch of purple weeds.

What is this?

You'll see.

He went off to take care of the hibiscus, while I scratched my head, trying to figure out why he was making me water weeds. When I tipped the water can on the weeds, giant corn stalks shot up through the ground. They were so tall and thick, they stood at least five feet above me, overwhelming everything. I was so surprised, it was all happening so fast, that one stalk nearly impaled me, had I not moved away in time.

This is your patch, the old man said, it is a gift from those who love you.

There is more to come.