Monday, March 7, 2011

a nightmare

My new job was a receptionist at a white trash hair salon run out of an old mansion. A little boy showed up for his appointment with Tanya, who was in the basement smoking and laughing with other stylists. I shouted "Tanya your one-o-clock is here!" several times but she and everyone ignored me.

Then, I was at home and there was a blizzard raging outside. On my living room floor was a rubber toy pig, bright yellow with red details, the size of a football, perched with stiff cheer on rounded hooves. It made me uneasy so I chucked it out the window into the snow, watching its trajectory into the alley. When I turned, the toy pig was peeking at me from around a corner. Startled, I threw it out again, harder. Relief was fleeting; the pig reappeared next to me on the couch, and the unease grew into quaking terror. Then began an inescapable nightmare in which the pig continued to show up just when I was sure I'd outsmarted it. I got rid of it a dozen times, convinced myself I was awake and it was just a dream-pig, and then there he was, the most awful, frightening thing I'd ever seen, like the doomy breath of thanatos. The yellow pig began zooming ghoulishly across the carpet at me. I jammed it into the oven and turned it on, watching (the oven spun like a tumble-dryer) its features burn off. The pig came back. Finally, I tore into it with my bare hands, ripping the latexy yellow skin to shreds. I woke up around this time.

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