Cloudy fog of a dream, the air was thicker than normal, at least for me. Spent hours trying to catch my breath and slow things down. Everything around me was moving at twice thrice speed. Rain droplets slowing when they entered my orbit. Going to the doctor who diagnosed me with emphysema. Wasn't afraid, this didn't feel like a nighmare to me. It just was. Having to tell friends family who were difficult to catch because they kept speeding up in orbits around me and realising I couldn't tell anyone, that I'd never be able to.
Woke. Fell into another dream.
A cottage in the Muskokas with my Dad and my brother. We were taking about my tattoo, my father for some reason also had one, giant lettering across his back, v. poorly done, like a jailhouse tattoo. I show my new tattoo (the one on my shoulder) to my brother and he just asks 'why why why'. I'm surprised, it's not that big or overpowering. But when I look at myself in the mirror, the tattoo has been growing on its own. The spirals have fluorished and beyond the basic black/white tattoo. The tips of the outline is pouring out vegetative book of kells type spirals, weeds, that move when I look at the mirror, the tattoo floods my back, over my lower back, backside, upper legs. Whole sections are done in pools of black tool, as though there's an outline of a smaller woman, turning, on my body. It is incredibly beautiful and vibrant but I'm afraid.
Reflections on publicity
1 week ago