There was a thin black film spreading over everything today.  It started at my hands, and I couldn’t seem to stop it.  It was so dark, and smelled like almonds.  I can’t remember eating almonds, but I must have if i remember the smell when it is all over me.  At first I wasn’t worried, I had come here intentionally to spread this epoxy into a film.  I am trying to hold back so much and hold in so much.

It got onto my fingers and then spread up my arms. I backed up and it got on my back.  It fell down my leg. It was everywhere and spreading.  It was cool and smooth and spreading over my skin.  Cutting off the air, holding down the skin and filling my nose with fields of almonds.  I can’t get away from the smell and the hole i am in.  I can’t get the plastic from my skin and don’t know if i want to.  It can’t be something to get off.  Drips of it on my fingers keep me from rubbing the liquid off my arms.  I need out of here now that the work is done.  I can’t remember why i was sealing this hole, or how i was going to use it when i was done.

Then everything is back to here, and I remember I am not awake yet.  I can’t be filling anything and epoxy doesn’t make any sense.  How would i mix it, where would i get it.  Why am I here in this ground and who made the ground the way it is. The epoxy isn’t real and the ground isn’t real.  This is a dream and something folding into my mind.  Was this the feeling of the sheets around me?  Did something put down weights onto me.  Why are all the thoughts of anything outside this room so vivid and so disconnected.  Why does everything seem so real and so unconnected to a past or future.  I see these things like dreams or a movie i was in.  I know so much about it, but also I can’t remember when it happened.  I can’t remember what i was doing before each event, or my plans after they are done.

I seem to be a dream.  I must be a dream.  If i am not a dream, am i some fragment of an idea someone is having, am I some sort of memory someone is putting into place.  Plugging into me these small pieces of a real life, holding small fragments of life and feelings, and then disconnecting me from them.  I know this means something, but that seems to be part of what is missing.  I can’t seem to connect the what to the why.  I know that there must be some reason that more and more I seem like i am more awake and present in each of these memories, or dreams, and yet i can’t seem to get anything to fall into place.  They seem random and disconnected, but they mean something to someone.