I am a girl who dreams. Whether that be in sequence, or in beautiful vignettes, black and white and grey, star rain dripping on my bare shoulders. I am a girl who is stalked by malignant vehicles tumors against stark, bare, fields, that perhaps used to be full of dream life but now melt into dry, blood desert. I can see hills in the distance, and above those, just a hint of a peak of silver panel siding, and a flag the color of moon. I keep trying to reach that peak, that tower. The dream ruler, or whatever it is. King, Queen, god, presence, something that speaks to me, or about me from beside my bed, coercing an old hag woman to not make me a place. I never think that I'm crazy. Just a girl who dreams.
