Thursday, October 28, 2010

A child’s doll has died. At his request, I ask his mother for permission to conduct a funeral service in a language no one understands. This she grants. The doll is in a shoe box, beneath a fastened lid. Sunlight finds us in the street outside. A lone trumpet: inside the box, the doll begins to sing.

2 comments:

Weave Dreamer said...

Yours, and the previous dream post are both really intense!

What do you make of the symbolism in yours?

wow.

William Michaelian said...

Well, less than symbolism, I think more in terms of the dream as something that really happened.