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[Jan. 13th, 2017|11:09 am] |
fantastic waking dream ... nelasi vairaak - nav nekaadas jegas... espionage sizets set up with a guy called Mark Whale... I go to find 'him' at work - get lost in the false staircases of what could be the State Chancellory - and find Trump whining in low mental health into a dicataphone in the toilet... he walked me home and told me to forget about what said Mark Whale had said (how had he known?); told me to stop wasting time 'getting things done'. Also, I should stop reading. It is, he told me 'time to do hundreds of things at the same time without finishing anything'
Okay
Back in my dingy yellow flat he ordered me to pull up this Whale on my phone. "Not on that one! Don't you have a smart one? Use mine'. He flipped it out and as we stared into the dark scrying screen I noticed that he, Trump, was hooded and wearing sunglasses. Images slided into view and then slipped away. A charge surged through the room. My daughter returned and fiddled around with the fuses. I felt an unease and regretted that I too didn't have sunglasses. I hooded up in an effort to avoid my own eye contact which, however, loomed amongst the whispy forms of nascent demonic presence. My nerve buckled: the images threatened horrendous truths.
"We'll do this later." Trump said and made to leave. "Now go to work."
Later I received a 'call' from Whale. Well it was a video, a fruit basket faded from view to reveal the head of a committee chairing a meeting. He asked Whale to stop fidgeting with himself and then proceeded to reveal supposedly top secret plotting aimed at sabotaging the President elect: but to what purpose was I being informed? And should I tell the boss? Or did he already know? Didn't he say I should forget this Whale?
How I longed for the simple life of solitude tending my tomatoes: ambition in servitude is a terrible thing - there are so many plots and I don't have the necessary IQ - or was that... Good lord... was that the whole point? |
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