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Tuesday, April 21, 2009

The Space Ghost dream of 1976






















I really don’t know if I dreamt it.
I know I dreamt it, well: I don’t know what are my feelings whilst I’m saying, trying to describe this. The mental diapositives are scary, indistinctly sexual, sick...
I think I dreamt it. Dreamt that I was watching ‘Space Ghost’ in 1976.

My age was not my age of 1976, I was older than I really was in 1976.
I was watching ‘Space Ghost’ on a TV in 1976.
A TV of 1976.

And it was a grey dawn, as grey were the dawns of 1976; because were dawns in black and white.
The breakfast was sordid and rampant, as it were the breakfasts in 1976, in black and white:
I went outdoors suddenly:
the TV stayed turned on, receiving a transmission across the air of 1976.
The sky was encapsulated in itself, like grey polyethylene: the city of 1976 was a grey-steamy glass on 'Burda' & 'Marie Claire' magazines of 1976.
The paving stones of the strait avenue of the south had orgasms with the tires of the cars that passed over it, grey.
The rain was just an anecdote, and I caught my father’s car, across blocks and blocks of grey.
It was probably a grey Valiant IV of 1976.

There was a policeman of 1976, who was standing over an eminence built in cement and glass, and he was redirecting the traffic of 1976.
Some haze deformed his appearance from the distance, and he looked like one same thing with the small tower or eminence where he was; grey. Of 1976.


Because the city was 1976' steamy glass, collapsing in orgasms that the cars provoked it, passing by over its wet, open vagina; over its hard clitoris...
.