Dream Report

The beautiful is always bizarre.

— Baudelaire






Thursday, 22 February 2011:


I’m a Russian soldier in WW II.

I’m a partisan hiding in the nettles.

There’s Göring in a helicopter.

He’s playing with the pilot stick.

cut to/


I’m flying over rails & clouds;

I’m afraid of the touch-down.

Sudden drop. Falling, falling!

A crash but no impact.

No impact.

cut to/

My comrades & I are hiding in the Pripyat Marshes.

My comrades & I are hiding in Göring’s hunting lodge.

We pee in empty gas cylinders.

I’m reading Fritz the Cat.

cut to/

Class of ’79.

I’m wearing a steel helmet.

Prussian Anne is telling me off.

Asking questions.

She’s my liaison officer.

“Where are you going?”

“To Afghanistan.

“What for?”

“To kill Afghans.”

 She gives me my code number:





(to be continued)








One-hit-wonder The Catch – 25 Years (1983) 



Peter Bies © 2011 




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