I had a dream in a strange language that seemed like a Latin language, but unknown to me. I got a drone in the mail after waiting nearly six months for it to arrive. The color was fire engine red. Parts were sealed in conformal plastic vacuum sheets. I remember cutting the vehicle, props, lenses, payload carriage, charge pad, free with a pair of scissors. I assembled it. I configured the software settings, ran tests, flew. I blogged about it. I watched tutorials in the odd language.
I flew the drone in the rain at sunset with intermittent thunderclouds overhead. I flew over a village and a marsh. When I returned to the house, everything turned into solid crystal, and I was locked in. Over millennia, my crystals evolved and bloomed and mixed with the surroundings.
Aerosol cheese on somewhat stale crackers on break. The hum of the pop machine. I don’t drink pop.
Alligator gondola lyre crescent hallucinations. That shape, a succession of images of that crescent shape.
Bonus trauma haiku
Pedophile demons
Rule our goofy little world.
DOW at fifty thou.
Fifty State Banana 