not unlike a dream

These last few days were not quite ordinary, more like a sting of dreams, rushing after each other. Do not get me wrong, I do not mean the blissfull happy dreams, nor sordid chilling nightmares. I mean the kind of dreams that have a lot of things happen so fast, that when (and if) you ever take a second to look back (or try to recollect the dream) it all seems like... nothing actually happened. The sort of pushy emptyness going for the lunchbreak passing along the fruitcake only to splash upon the eventuality of tomorrow's stale bread. Or maybe, just maybe, I have no clue what i am talking about. But I do know that I even forgot a birthday yesterday. So something must be cooking, otherwise the smoke wouldn't be going back into the chimney, right?

ps. Looking for a quote from Lewton I found the lyrics to the song sang by Samael.