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October 17, 2006
100 Dreams The fifteenth dream: The chicken coop. It's really a chicken shed. The floor is wood. You can smell old chicken shit in the dust. The floor is bare earth. Cloudy water bottles line the floor. The window is covered with chicken wire, the plastic torn loose and flailing in the wind. I'm outside again, the paint peeling from the shed. White, heavy paint. I hear tanks coming and run into the shed, locking the door. The tanks stop for a moment, engines idling. I hear voices. Then an engine revs, and side of the shed begins to collapse.