A Public Hearing On The Roadside

On an elevated riprap which seems like a fjord, I see a black female commercial model doing a catwalk. She wears a golden skirt that well matches her complexion and her kinky hair fashioned like a haywire. On her top is a tight black spaghetti tube. She looks so confident with her wide smile.

After a few seconds, three black men with jungle outfits emerge from somewhere. They hold what seems like a customized and elongated stage that perfectly fits the narrow width of the fjord. The stage is pillared with three huge poles of bamboos. Their diameter is similar to that of a normal pine tree trunk. Each pole measures around more than thirty feet. Each of the African-looking men stunningly carries the huge poles and they move the stage so facilely like puppeteers.

With a wink of an eye, the woman is raised on the platform as she continually does her thing. She looks so dashing on the stage and is being treated like a queen while doing some dances. The sight looks so magical. How can she manage to balance herself on the platform more than thirty feet high from the fjord? I don't see myself grow in height but I can see her clearly in awe from where I stand. Amazing.

The scene shifts to a public hearing. It is indeed a public hearing that it is taking place in open area on the side of the road. I am standing on the same riprap but this time with the company of my boyfriend. The model and the three mean earlier just vanished. There are a lot of kibitzers on the road. The people await the courtroom drama. I see the judge in the middle and the brown table adorned with some artifacts like flags and old knives and bolos. One of the lawyers closely examines them and raises a flag. He tells everybody that those are stolen artifacts.

More and more people get attracted to the sight and I feel exhausted. I ask my boyfriend to take a walk and find a place where we can drink some water.I see lots of faces with huge unfamiliarity. Down the road as we go further, I see an old friend. He is fixing a car. I tell him I need a ride. He asks me to come over. He opens the front trunk of the car and he fixes its propeller. The longer I look at it, the propeller turns into a washing machine's propeller and it becomes too small.

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Cool Blog you have here, I enjoyed reading it and I'll be back often

August 30, 2007 at 4:09 PM  


Nice Blog..

September 3, 2007 at 7:18 AM  

i always try to keep track of your dreams and as usual and as i've always said, i think you are the first person i know who can recall his dreams so vividly! this will keep on amazing me!

September 5, 2007 at 1:52 AM  

hi morinn, thanks a lot for the heartwarming comment, i will keep on dreaming on and thank you again that you like them...

September 5, 2007 at 5:39 AM  

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