'Die, Stubborn Century'

[boccaderlupo]

I dreamed we were listening to a tune and watching its accompanying video. Four streetsigns at night, seen only in silhouette at first. Some kind of electronic beat, very minimalist. My friend from the Pines nodded along. At the end, you could read one of the signs said: "Abbey Road." Then, the title of the song showed on the screen: "Die, Stubborn Century."

I had gotten new eyes implanted, given to me by some kind donor. The operation had been done inside a sprawling mall, lounges all about, high ceilings above with vast skylights. I had to blink a couple of times to get the images to click. Everyone was happy to see I made it through the surgery. They told of various folks who had come to visit while I was under, some of whom I knew in the waking world, others not. Some gangster types, even. "I'm well liked," I thought.

I visited my brother's old friend from high school. His office was in the mall, and I had to wade through crowds to get there. A lady in the office said "shhh." The man's infant child was there sleeping in a corner of the office. After greeting him, we went over to see the kid, who was on a bottom shelf, filed away beneath all sorts of supplies and surrounded by cats, indeed clad in one of those animal outfits they put on kids these days. I lifted a sheet of paper and there the baby was, snoring away as he ought to.