The pattern, invisible to nearly everyone: the archetypes, figures in a dream that re-form, replace, embody. Invisible the mind’s construction, only the crime, the criminal — a scapegoat. The structure, permeable yet indelible, allows any available character to fill a role. Crowds are marvelous disruptors — beware the one-man show.
Scrambling across the pavement in battle gear, forms shoot past at great speed: looters, J-walkers, trash talkers. I breathe the gray oxygen-type. Others mutter quietly, sing, scream unintelligible things. It all blends together in the streetside drone. Past the BK Drive Thru a seagull drifts toward a line of dumpsters, the wind from the highway something like an ocean breeze. Adapt, assimilate, survive..

Messages from the dream: The Day the Earth Stood Still, Basic Black, Edgewood.

“We have to say that this is truly a world of darkness.” – Zen Master Man Gong

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