I've been thinking a lot about my dreams lately. they are always a bit unusual, often bordering on the nightmarish but when my room is too warm they become downright feverish and halucinatory. The tall white shapes I see moving towards me in the dark but I am so heavy I cannot leave the bed... I am always alone in my dreams, always running, fighting for my life... over and over again, my limbs are heavy, or my feet begin to stick to the ground, sometimes like running through mud or sand... I try desperately to fight back, to hurt someone but I am weak and it does nothing, or I cannot keep my eyes open even if I am holding my lids with my fingers... I am always trying to save people or warn them or protect them but they don't listen, they die anyways, I cannot help them enough because they are just too fragile for the whirlwind around them, or it is me, my body is falling apart, or being eaten by maggots or turning to orange slime and melting away in the sun, the bones of my hand painfully exposed... I am always very small, the landscapes massive and strange, or simply physically impossible, falling through dimensions I cannot navigate, always lost with a desperate sense of urgency: how have I been gone so long and I didn't even know? it's like I've been sleeping for eternity and just awoken to find this world falling apart around me- but there is always something that must be done, something to be escaped, a destination.... I will always see those giant eyes on their purple stalks, waving gently in the distance... that odd swampy land between the sea and an impenetrable forest, where the sun beat down hard and we ran to and fro on tiny boards suspended above the dead, acidic water...