The Crocodile's Back

I moved into that mad salvador dali world around 1 at night with a tired back and a near-numb head.

It was a trip to a familiar corner of the mountains that frequently features in my night trips, only this time I was driving my ol beat-up baby 8503.

The colour of the air was an orangish something and the frame of the world was a little tilted. I drove up to a many-storied house, curiously empty. The verandah was familiar and I felt a funny feeling in my head.

And then I slept in a large room, on a large bed, under a large fan. It was strange. Everything there. Like when you watch TV with the mute button on.

I turned on my side and realised that there was someone sleeping INSIDE the thick mattress under me. The mattress was transparent, jelly-like and inside it was a corpse, stiff and nude.

I jumped off the bed feeling revulsion and vomitish. Ran out and jumped into my tired cranky car and drove off. And the mountains were all barren and lifeless. There were no humans, no animals, no trees. Just mountains, large and bare and dusty.

And at a pass, narrow like a woman's word, the car came stuck and wouldnt move. I shifted gears and pressed the pedal muttering please please please please - and I could still feel the skin of the corpse on my skin. The car didn't move but a black dog floated out of the air and stood staring at me.

And thats how I remember the night.

A picture from a distance:
The car in the mud, the dog staring, the memory of a naked corpse in the mattress and the mountains stretching on all sides, grim like a crocodile's back.