“What are you doing? What are you doing? What are you doing here?”
I woke up feeling my teeth grinding against each other, and very fine tooth particles in my mouth, or maybe that was my imagination.
I’m startled at and by the sound, a kind of squeaky grind, and the tastelessness of the grit in my mouth. It’s as if I came upon intruders in the apartment, in my bed even, as if I should scream, “What are you doing? What are you doing? What are you doing here?”
But mostly, I woke up realising that all the tension I’ve felt in my sleep now migrates into my waking hours, and that is a nightmare.
***
Image: A Visitor to the Forbidden City, Henri Cartier-Bresson, 1948.
Don’t plagiarise any of this, in any way. Read and memorise “On Plagiarism.” There’s more forthcoming, as I point out in “The Plagiarism Papers.” I have used legal resources to punish and prevent plagiarism, and I am ruthless and persistent. If you’d like to support me, please donate and/or subscribe, or get me something from my wish list. Thank you.
