I woke up in a doctor’s chair, legs in stirrups. The physician read my fortune by the bones in my head. He told me what to watch out for. But he was grinning as he said it. “Can I trust you?” I asked. “We’re not at liberties to disclose that information,” he replied.
Monday, 28 November 2016
This time, the dream got into my computer. A virus! All the keys turned around, exorcist style, to show me their small white backs. I tried to type fast enough to outsmart the technological collapse, but my fingers got stuck. The computer screen swooned, limp as fresh pancakes, all across my hands.