Cobra

I know there's nothing more boring than reading other people's dreams. Dreams have this special quality to them that only touches the one who had them and no matter how hard one try, this special quality (a mix of absurd, beauty, hope, fulfillment, terror, satisfaction...) remains out of reach to others. Exceptions are rare. The only I have in mind is the diner scene in Mulholland Drive where Lynch manages to create an incredible tension just with this guy telling his nightmare.

I know that dreams are boring. Unfortunately, I cannot fully make public the concerns that I have to deal with these days. And they are so urgent and overwhelming that I don't have anything else to talk about. So while I'm trying to find a solution to my problems I hope, Gentle Reader, that you will bear with me.

I'm reading Out by Natsuo Kirino.

...in my dreams I'm holding a cobra by the side of its head and it's ok except that I can see it open its mouth and poison dripping from its hooks and except that I hope that the guy who brought the snake in the first place will stop fucking around and take it back before it can find a way to bite me...