The Odd

In the peculiar image-scape of dreams, recently there appeared David Lynch standing on the opposite side of a trench behind the toilet in the house where I grew up. He backed away from me, pointing and shaking his head, receded underground into an infinity of darkness. A short-haired, short-legged, red dog barked and barked at me from the same trench; and kittens that had part-human faces begged me to adopt them.

I said no to all of them.