(Wednesday, 3rd June 2020)
“The Ghostly Bible: Dreamscapes and Nightmares”
It’s now quarter-to-eleven, in the morning.
Today, it’s a grey sky.
I’ve had a look at “the Covid-19 issue” piece of work;
the note I picked up off the table, that read, “Looking for a man to pull down my underwear, and I’m gonna look at you with a straight face, so I’m on a plane, then on a fag run, getting to Spain and it’s gonna be funny there, no time on the internet, meeting funny people and then returning with a suitcase full of cigarettes.”
Someone in my imagination is messing things up in real life.
I should have better control over some nightmares.
I’m on a Ireland, in Cryptville insane asylum.
The name’s Mr John Sickyith, Reemiss for short.
From 2009 - do they really want to know what rickE did?
First point and fact is, he made one serpent go missing, and if the truth isn’t what that is, he’s more twisted than I originally thought, the percentage on me is too high for that spirit.
Being in Riddlescrypt hospital, one paramedic made a reference toward an Apostle line of mine;
told him he would have to ask Michelle, yet it’s more like he’s asking them to axe her, although he’s already thrown her under a bus, I mean, on YouTube, I’ve watched a few depositions from David Taylor.
Spiral soon approached me and said, “The dose we gave you is going to make you feel a little groggy. Always consequences from your actions, isolating you from everyone so you can do your work properly. This time, the lung is fine, you’re just exaggerating the pain. If no abuse occurs during your isolation, no more days will be added to the sentence. Be productive.”
This morning, I did only get six-hours sleep.
At first, from that dream, I remember Eric dropping me outside the front, of the hotel. “Can’t believe people are still buying Paul’s newspaper. He needs to keep his parrot away from the graveyard, because someone I hear, is eager to shoot down Charlotte.”
Not sure who he was, but he stood outside, repeating “come and get this,” but having looked at the dvd of a little girl and an orangutan outside of a rollercoaster park, I said I preferred watching Dunston Checks In.
“Anna has just sent a message down from your room. She said don’t come back ‘til you’ve gone to the shop, bought tea bags, sugar, and milk.” Claire said, as I walked through the doors.
I said, “She couldn’t make it to the cabin, then. Probably still writing her Forestry poem.”
“Yeah, I heard about police wanting evidence, and Paul’s poetry competition that he’s got going. I’ve told him, I do remember seeing someone with the description he had, but it could have been anyone. That guest is no longer in the building.”
I reached the reception desk, and that is when Brian walked out of the elevator, with Paul in a head-lock. “Authority can have whatever they want on paper, I told you to write about my chain-less ends, and Sue was always going to be my famous friend!” Brian shouted.
Photo: A screen-shot, from Tuesday 2nd June 2020, at 8:04pm. Holding the Anne Frank diary.