that monster there...

     Dream reality      When we consider our dreams in a waken state of consciousness they seem confused, often fantastic, frightening or silly and most often they seem filled with impossible convolutions of time and space. Dreams also frequently negate of the laws of physics and defy our intellectual and emotional consistency.      Here's a brief thesis on why.      As physical creatures we must translate our experience of reality to accommodate time and space, as Einstein describes in his specific and general theories of relativity. We "fit" into our scale in the universe through he contextual constructs of both time and space - external physical realities that are accounted for by our minds every second of every waking moment of our lives (for the most part.)      However, time and space are corporeal constants, and are not noetic requirements. That is, our minds do not require time and space to function! ...

     Slim and Angel didn't discuss much at all until they reached Tylor Texas. Then they briefly discussed  the worrisome pains Angel was experiencing in her back, her hips, and deep down inside.      "... And every time I go to pee, there's a little blood," she said in a trembling voice.      "What's it mean, Angel?" asked Slim. "Is it unusual?"     "I don't know, Slim. We better get me to a doctor once we reach Louisiana."     That was about it. The two were busy with their own thoughts, drawing worried pictures of reality in the clarity of the bright southern skies. It was hot. The vinyl in the car blistered and filled the thick air with burning urgency.       Angel tried to fix her thoughts on what she might find familiar in Louisiana, with a baby, looking for work as the Family Gus. She chewed on her lip, rubbed her belly and listens to Slim grind the gears of the old ford. She pictured herself up on the wire, perfectly ...

Angel walked out of the crumbling toilet at Buckbone's Gas & Feed Station with her hair rough-hewn, close to her ears. The little stuff left was left dyed bubblegum pink. Below a vengeful, sloping brow Angel's steady eyes measured the landscape that surrounded her. Fury curled the corners of her razor-thin smile.             Buckbone himself got a split-second view of the inside of that poor wreck of a room between the time the door flew open and when it slammed shut again.             "Seems like," Buckbone sneered, "that lady owes me some money for setting off some kind of girlie-bomb in our public toilet."               Four dusty men sitting on a plank of lumber beside him nodded quietly, squinting at the shock of pink bird strutting toward the broken down vehicle rattling restlessly in the unpaved lot.    ...