amidst sleep murmurs and sleepy um hrms i tell tt of my nightmares�

my dream from last night:

i have left my salad and chinese food out at the physics library for a few nights, and have just now come back to eat it. when done i notice an earthworm squiggling on the plate�i am immediately sick. exerunt to the bathroom right quick.

in the hallway i meet up with a bunch of punks and industrials. it seems i have already moved to frisco and am in need of a place to stay. a tall and quite lovely grrlie, the kind with the upturned nipples and tiny skirt, kisses me and invites me to live with them. i accept the generous offer and we kiss a bit more. mmm.

there is some sort of club tonight in an old five story factory building. it is dark and strobe and pounding on every floor, sweat and bodies everywhere. there is nothing else but dancing, hard.

*flash*

(at this point the dream warps into a combination of comicbook and reality � at times flashing frames of action instead of movie style � reality is severely distorted and there is a strange musical background (very dannyelfman) where people just start singing at times. it is quite dark and sp0oky.)

the pumpkinking is on a rampage tonight and it is time to kill. he is a combination of jackskellington, scarecrow and the headless horseman (sans horse). tall and skinny like jack, but all in black, he is able to throw his head at others to stun them and it seems he is very good at slicing people up with his blades. he also exudes a dreamy atmosphere where one immediately adores him�his victims all swoon.

the pumpkinking decides tonight is the night to off again on a murder-spree. he dances and hums, singing and skipping down the streets toward the club full of meat�i know when he kills because the dream *flashes* into frame mode, and you see a few fingertips, ear pieces, or whatnot, fall into the next frame after the screaming is suddenly cut off. he is a problem for the city, he is, and quite the famous source of terror.

the pumpkinking arrives at the club, still dancing and wielding his blades. tonight would be a good night. he slices up a few floors, mincing hundreds of people. amazingly there is not much blood, just putty-looking parts sliced and diced. he laughs maniacally (of course) and dances away, singing his song off into the night.

*flash*

by the ocean there is a ravine in the sand. one of the ants from AbugsLife (or Antz, i forget which one i have seen) comments that they have hit the motherload as he hefts up a fingertip above his head and steps into line with the other ants. they all carry various pieces of organ/bone/skin down the �road� or crack in the sand. the ant�s large DungBeetle friend agrees with him in a very slow, but excited fashion. slow being the short bus type.

*flash*

a cut to loud screaming�and a zoom in to the pumpkinking reading the paper in his apartment downtown. he shakes with fury, for the Lab-Technician-Mad-Scientist (not properly named in the dream) has taken credit for his hundreds and hundreds of kills last night. the paper contains pictures of the scene showing amazingly tall and intricate stacks of glass specimen containers full of the various body parts, all precisely sorted and labeled as to which part. the view enters the pictures and hovers quickly around the scene, documentary style. the complexity of the display is awe-inspiring and only one felon could do such a thing, the madscientist!

the pumpkinking stamps and rages, uncontrolled and unhindered in his anger.

*flash*

i am reading the paper on my father�s tugboat-house - a land-locked house constructed to look like a large tugboat, but run down, peeling paint, sagging door frames. the house is in dis-repair because our father, also known as the madscientist, has died many years ago. i await my little brother�s return.

side note: in the dream i am around 22 years old, and he is 16. i am wearing a plain white slip dress, my hair is long, brown, straight, and flowing down my back.

i am not surprised when i am interrupted by the pumpkinking. he is suave and i am instantly swooning (not because of his aura, but out of my own decision � some type of Freudian attracted-to-those-like-my-father thing no doubt. i am a strange child. i am my father�s daughter.)

i am silent about my suspicions that my brother has slipped into my father�s role after his death. these ideas are proved true by last night�s happenings, but these thoughts are only for me.

the pumpkinking goes into a long explanation about how painful my death will be, singing every now and then about his skill and my demise. he unfolds his blades, at least thirty fold out from each hand, six from each finger � a yard long and thin, with little metal hooks at the end to grab/rip with. they are beautiful and make such music as they unfold from his wrist, ringing and vibrating like chimes in their seeming delicacy.

i fell deeper in love.

*flash*

i sit with whom is left on the top floor of the club. we are all trapped and waiting for our deaths, for the pumpkinking will be back to finish what he started. he is ransoming us for the madscientist � long dead � who will never arrive to rescue us. my little brother sits with me, uncertain as to what to do�but i have a plan. i ask him to pass me all of the tomato juice, puree and tomato paste, which i pour down into the front of my pants. my white jeans stay white, holding a surprise for the pumpkinking inside � i never did find out what my dream persona was going to do with the tomatoes.

the end