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October 11, 2006

100 Dreams

I've been making candles. This one has gone wrong. Glowing wax is flowing over the top of the mold where it sits on the burner. The candle rises out of its bed, lifting the lid, hissing, and sparking. Wax flows down the front of the stove and across the floor, hardening, covered with more wax moving like a lava flow into the living room. Outside I am in shorts in the evening with the neighbors, dancing in pain as the fireworks shower sparks all over us. Skyrockets have gone lateral, shooting between us, smashing into the garage door.