i woke up this morning sweating profusely.
i just had a nightmare of sorts; something i have not had for quite a long time. the nightmare had the intensity of a mike de leon film. think "itim" and the espiritista scene. this time it's a one on one between me and the ispiritista--a deglamorized pia guanio.
i can try to rationalize this a thousand times, but i won't. dreams are, by nature irrational and devoid of meaning. that's what scientific journals have been preaching for some time now. and so it will be. my truth.
some parts are a bit blurry in my mind now. but i can make out a lot of shaking, convulsions, and flickering eyelids; then a crumbling candle, like it's just been pulverized into chalk--light extinguished with a strong gust of wind.
trembling, i looked at pia guanio's eyes directly and asked her, "what is it, now?"
unflinchingly, she stared back in the dark, with only the light of the moon tracing her face and said, "it's the sins of the flesh".
and just like that, i woke up.
fuck. now i gotta lay off the porn.
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