Dreams

Carnival

I dream of ants, spiders, scorpions, and skeletons. The skeletons play cards, a vicious game of "war." They kill you if you lose. The scorpions have wings and look like strange, nightmarish locusts. The spiders are all black. Odd that I don't remember seeing the ants. All this inside a tent amid tents, a stark and grim graveyard of black and tattered pavilions, as in a carnival. Not much light. The ground is dusty. The sky is a sort of dull bronze. I have the singular sensation of eyes upon me, on the outskirts of this place, in the shadows and beyond my vision. Then again, perhaps no one is watching me. But something knows I'm here. I would not be hiding in these haunted, silken structures were it otherwise.