6/14/08

Big concert that I’ve gotten tickets to. There are seven of us, or so, including Legend. In Flames, Opeth, and Disturbed. I’m excited to have Legend there. Brought all my shit, including 2 bags, and 3 typewriters. This group of thugs start fucking with them. I think they were Hispanic - something similar to Crash's Ricky Verona. I start pushing them off my stuff, but there are too many. My attempt to dissuade them with incoherent babblings of madness and rivers of blood does nothing. Jerry Stiller comes over in a wheelchair, says some quote by Stephen King about standing up for yourself and persuades them to leave with one gesture of one of their arms.

The concert begins – the whole place is some kind of converted church – very small, stage in the ¾-ed square with only a few seats. Mine has some kind of safety bar coming out over it. My height prevents me from sitting there. There is some dilemma about ripping the bar out of the wall, as it is both in the way and loose.



I am walking through the upper hallways of a high school. There’s a carnival or fair going on outside. A couple is playing hide and go seek with their son. I spy the son, about 7, curled up and counting in a car of a ferris wheel – he has clearly crawled through a window in the school to get there, and is not secured at all. I don’t say anything at first, to not spoil game. The wheel is constructed very bizarrely. 2 elliptical tracks run through one another, something like the shape of a butterfly's wings carved out between them. Cars rotate quickly along the track, and spin independently, each car barely missing the next one coming from the opposite wheel at the two plaecs they intersect. The boy is lost, and a race begins to return him to his now hysterical parents.

The carnival is actually quite terrifying. Clowns and jesters from a Renaissance era are covered in deep browns and whites, quite unlike the bright colors normally associated with them -- they are caked in dirt and covered in filth. The carnival itself now seems horribly twisted, and The Gallows doesn’t seem like a fun ride, but people take it anyway. The corpses are flung down into a gaping pit of raw flesh and pulped bodies below the wooden stage's hatch. The son is flung down in some sort of 50’s-style fabric-lined suitcase. Fishing out the suitcase, he is inside, curled into a ball in a giant plastic bag. Still alive, but covered in this muck. Looking up, it seems that Wizard is marrying Agent, half just to prove some kind of point to Chewie.



I am in a hotel room not dissimilar to my own. The family leaves, heading for parts unknown. I rifle through a deck of cards, many of which have faces, both distinct and generic on them, in cartoonish style. The back of the deck seems to have an entirely different game on them. What kind of a game officially declares a 10-minute delay in case of fudge? There are shoes on the bed. They seem to belong to Kitten. I have an overwhelming need to return them, but I cannot figure out how to do so. The Swineherd have actually gathered at Master’s house, to nerd it up. I am bound to go with them, if only I can find my way.