Dream Colors


“This is not a dream… not a dream! We are using your brain’s electrical system as a receiver. We are unable to transmit through conscious neural interference. You are receiving this broadcast as a dream.”

— John Carpenter, Prince of Darkness (1987) 







Sunday, 9 July 2011:


Rue Suzette, Quartier La Redoute.

A maze of stalls & booths – the souk.

Monsoon clouds & a steel grey sky.


Incense, spice &  perfumes.

Bootleg  games & videos.

Charcoal barbecue.

Posters & banners.

Clothes & pottery.

Drink & food.

Cheap tools.


I’m smoking a black cheroot thru a clarinet.

The clarinet’s sentient & made of mahogany.

A deep, rich red with ivory fittings.

“You have to carry it in your armpit.”

The Phase Girl is watching me from the arcades.

She’s wearing a blue summer dress.

“Like a calumet?”


cut to/


I’m passing the kebab stand for the 2nd time.

The Greek is cleaning the chip pan.

The Greek’s looking me in the eyes.

He’s slowly counting to ten. 



cut to/


I’m rummaging through the Asian gift shop.

The Handsome Kid in the folding chair is irritated.


“English, German. French & some Russian. Phœnician?”

The Phase Girl’s back at the cash register.

She’s wearing a rose summer dress.

“Stress code in the 5th grade.”

The Phase Girl’s handing me a handful of lipsticks.

Three different shades – blue, dew & chrome.

“Don’t tell anybody!”

“You’ll catch a cold in that dress.”

It is raining now.

Cold wind ruffling the hem of her dress.







(to be continued)







“The archetype is a force!” 

Carl Gustav Jung speaks on falling in love at first sight:



Peter Bies © 2011




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