dream_house raze on the bus, you tell me to turn my head and look out the window while you borrow glasses and a hairpin from the woman in front of you. peripheral vision spoils the surprise. absent electricity, the abandoned house we call home is quiet and cold. the locks still answer to the call of our keys. the air, thick with sawdust, stings our lungs. you walk on all_fours, hobbled but unhurt by all that did its level best to break you before we were rodents running full-bore into the arms of the unreal. 260219 ... epitome of incomprehensibility A Victorian manor house, still occupied. I'm visiting. The floor is tipped to one side, on the diagonal. (Inspirations: a new poem I'm writing compares italics to the leaning tower of Pisa; the floor of my aunt Sarah's house is a little warped with age, so on a smaller scale there are tilts.) I know I'm dreaming and I'm pleased to learn the layout of this diagonally tilted house. Knowing where the rooms are will help me navigate it more quickly. Speed is needed for a dream_game, like a hide_and_seek or scavenger hunt. And it does seem that I see these rooms several times, and that (unusually for a dream) they stay in the same place. But when I try to go down the stairs to a basement, which I haven't seen, a man dressed up as a butler points me forwards. I can't go there. I don't know if this is the dream's rules or the game's rules. 260915 ... e_o_i (Some people say lucid_dreaming means you also can control the dream. Not for me. Even when I know I'm dreaming, I never seem to have complete control of what's happening, though I can influence some things. Dreams imitate life sometimes!) 260915 what's it to you? who go blather from