Vivid iKid

I'm getting sick of staying up for sunrise.

I get so tired I see shit. I keep thinking I see a mouse.

This morning (i.e. yesterday morning) I woke up with a queasy stomach after the vivid dream I had: A religious performer climbed the scaffolding to the platform furiously. When he reached the top he slid forward on his knees with his hands in the air in sheer delight. But he overshot the platform. He slid right off the edge. It was too late -- there was nothing he could do to stop his trajectory. As his face hit the stage, one of the fireworks attached to his head for the show's pyrotecnic effects, exploded, instantly deflating his head and ending his life. No one saw it coming.

It was all so clear and I don't know why.

-Maniak pumping her palm.

-Fused the as-of-yet sparse crowd into a hive of reckless energy/wasps with a quasi-trance intro slipped oh-so-subtly smack in the centre of her pounding set.

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Don your own mask -- first.

Out the ovular window the wrinkled ground below stretches out into mist in shades of lavender -- like frozen lava or healing wounds.
Dimpled and vericose.
Roadways set boundaries. Reach out to hoard this. To contain. To probe. To own?

8 after 3 (or 1/4 after 1?):
That's the time it is, according to the crop circle below us, guiding us, warning us. Circular eggs hatch underneath the clockface like a family tree.
I'm not sure what that means. I don't know what I'm supposed to make of it. But I know it's significant. You can only see it from my perspective.

The cloverleaf blushes with her 4 golden earing looking so pretty on the snowfields.

The sleek vertical bowl on our powerful cylinder in turn on our omnicient tube devours that marbled terrain and spits it out behind. And we find it completely intact.

The red sprays up from the horizon behind us -- shooting out in a fountain, singing on like a refrain.

+++++++

Now to the smoking magma, flowing hot in the south.

+++++++

Now out the same ovular window his jew-encrusted armour below stretches out into black in shades of amber -- it's the tubing to run a mechanical monster.
Reptilian patterns draw bluprints for the seabed of scattered mazes.
The orange bloodcells pump through thick-walled veins.

Welcome to the circus lights. Don't miss the saphire throughs.

Can you beat this beast? Is it even worth trying? This reconnaissance is almost an "inside" view.

And: In the distance, accross the obscure waters, the glimmer of an the enemy's outpost rises like smoke.