It was a truly beautiful and elegant store, oblong and wooden, with giant curved shelves of books stacked high, up and into a painted, domed ceiling. Titles ranged from the universally known to the utterly esoteric, and there were journals and postcards, and travel guides to all of the wonders of the world. There were multi-coloured lights hanging from the ceiling, in red, orange, and the deepest blue, and there was a countertop of solid oak, where purchases were made. The staff had (innocently enough) placed three small candles on the counter, and they glowed with the faintest golden hue, beautifying the store. But something was amiss; the candles were not as they seemed. Suddenly they grew to an enormous size, and colossal, mountainous arms arose from their sides – arms with deep-seated veins, and flesh of an otherworldly rose-purple tinge. With these arms, they grabbed each and every book they could lay their hands on, and they threw the books into their flames, destroying them utterly. They decimated works by Milton and Kerouac, annihilated the postcards and pens, and eviscerated travel guides on Amsterdam and Kolkata. In no time at all, the entire store was in ruins, and the staff were seen walking among the ashes, shocked and horrified. At this point, all faded into blackness, and I realized once again where I was.
I was walking through an empty airport, and I had the feeling that the world had been ending for a thousand years. My flesh was dripping and I needed a place for repairs. I came upon a conveniently located airport funeral home, but I soon discovered it only served people made of fruit.
I am a branch on a giant bamboo tree. I slowly realize that all the other branches of the tree have a consciousness too, and we are connected as a hive mind. It is raining, and we are all consumed by the single minded idea to guide the water to the roots of the tree. As we do this, a dark haired nude women appears floating at the top of the tree. She is only a torso, arms, and a head. We are filled with awe think she is some sort of goddess. We begin to worship her. Suddenly, the scene changes and I am no longer a branch, just a disembodied mind. The women is stuck in a dark air duct, crying and smearing shit on the walls. At this moment I wake up, fearing scorpions in the bed.