Wednesday, May 04, 2005

Amityville at Ensbury Park Road

This morning Laura told me she is starting to have dreams like me. Dreams about murder, and burying dead people. You know, the stuff I dream almost every night, so often that I can't even call it nightmares anymore because it has become so common.
Fuckin jaded, man! hah.

"Hey, maybe some of my bad dream mojo is seeping into your room", I half-joked. Makes me wonder, though, hehe. Laura's and my bed are only separated by a fairly thin wall.

"Or maybe..." I added, rolling my eyes mysteriously and doing a magic weasel wave with my hands, "...maybe our house is built on an old burial ground."

We have actually considered that. The grass and the bluebells are growing too well in the garden. And damn, what's with the differently levelled concrete platforms? We always had the suspicion that former tenants who didn't pay the rent in time found their last resting place there.

Reminds me. Gotta go tomorrow and send some cash my landlord's way. I better. Or else.

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