In my dream I was H.P. Lovecraft. I resided in what was once a luxuriant wing of an immense apartment building. This day I had company, which was unusual of itself.
My guest was a woman, dressed completely in dark apparel. She was of a very peculiar character, not speaking a word. She walked across the room and sat down at my piano. From the angle I was standing at, I could only see her feet underneath the piano. I had heard rumors of the strange music that she played and I thought of my story "The Music of Erich Zann".
She began to play, softly at first. As her intensity of playing rose, her legs began to work the piano pedals madly. Her black dress had risen to above her knees. As I watched those knees rise and fall, I thought they looked strangely thin and bony. "My God!", I thought, "She's a man dressed as a woman!" Her playing continued to rise and crescendo.
Behold! There was not a single pair of legs working the pedals but two pairs now! I was struck with horror! Each of the four legs was madly rising and falling, rising and falling - each with a violent precision striking one of the three piano pedals. Amidst the nightmarish music my focus remained on the legs. The pair of legs on the right of the piano bench appeared thin and feminine - their posture was feminine as well. The pair on the left of the piano bench appeared thick and masculine. The playing stopped, and all four legs came to a comfortable and leisurely resting position. I rushed to look at the face of the strange quadrupedal seated at the piano. There was no man. There was no woman. A small boy dressed in early 20th century regalia - with ascot and grey newsboy shorts - sat looking up at me from the floor. There was no color to him at all - not in his face nor eyes nor his clothes. He was in black and white - monotone. He asked if there was any tuna. I said "No. Quite dismally, I'm afraid that there is only salmon". I thought of the genus felis and of my story "The Cats of Ulthar". I knew the economy was in shambles. Salmon for everyone now.
I turned the corner of the room and began to ascend a large oak staircase that rose several floors. It was very wide a staircase - so much room for myself to move about as a lone tenant. I was going to retrieve cans of salmon for the boy and I to have for lunch. I pictured in my mind, as I climbed the stairs, the docks outside of the building, and the ships in port with all of their exotic wares. I finally came to the large attic space. I walked to the far end and looked down. Amidst the rabble on the floor were glue traps for mice. I thought of my story "The Rats in the Walls". One glue trap was turned upside down, upon the floor. The other had a small mouse in it. I despaired that the creature was still alive. I placed a small wooden cabinet upon its head, applied pressure and awaited for the crunching sound of its cranium crushing in upon its pitiful rodent brain. To my dismay, it lived yet. I repeated the process several times until only a bloody spot remained where the head had been. I could see an ear. It seemed the body of the mouse still rose and fell with breath. I despaired again. Thinking of how to prepare the mouse for lunch (I must have my maid see to it), I left it there upon the attic floor and returned to the stairs. I thought how large and grand they were, and how beautiful was their oak wood as I descended them.
Dreamed by Aaron DeWeese, Wednesday, August 24, 2011
My guest was a woman, dressed completely in dark apparel. She was of a very peculiar character, not speaking a word. She walked across the room and sat down at my piano. From the angle I was standing at, I could only see her feet underneath the piano. I had heard rumors of the strange music that she played and I thought of my story "The Music of Erich Zann".
She began to play, softly at first. As her intensity of playing rose, her legs began to work the piano pedals madly. Her black dress had risen to above her knees. As I watched those knees rise and fall, I thought they looked strangely thin and bony. "My God!", I thought, "She's a man dressed as a woman!" Her playing continued to rise and crescendo.
Behold! There was not a single pair of legs working the pedals but two pairs now! I was struck with horror! Each of the four legs was madly rising and falling, rising and falling - each with a violent precision striking one of the three piano pedals. Amidst the nightmarish music my focus remained on the legs. The pair of legs on the right of the piano bench appeared thin and feminine - their posture was feminine as well. The pair on the left of the piano bench appeared thick and masculine. The playing stopped, and all four legs came to a comfortable and leisurely resting position. I rushed to look at the face of the strange quadrupedal seated at the piano. There was no man. There was no woman. A small boy dressed in early 20th century regalia - with ascot and grey newsboy shorts - sat looking up at me from the floor. There was no color to him at all - not in his face nor eyes nor his clothes. He was in black and white - monotone. He asked if there was any tuna. I said "No. Quite dismally, I'm afraid that there is only salmon". I thought of the genus felis and of my story "The Cats of Ulthar". I knew the economy was in shambles. Salmon for everyone now.
I turned the corner of the room and began to ascend a large oak staircase that rose several floors. It was very wide a staircase - so much room for myself to move about as a lone tenant. I was going to retrieve cans of salmon for the boy and I to have for lunch. I pictured in my mind, as I climbed the stairs, the docks outside of the building, and the ships in port with all of their exotic wares. I finally came to the large attic space. I walked to the far end and looked down. Amidst the rabble on the floor were glue traps for mice. I thought of my story "The Rats in the Walls". One glue trap was turned upside down, upon the floor. The other had a small mouse in it. I despaired that the creature was still alive. I placed a small wooden cabinet upon its head, applied pressure and awaited for the crunching sound of its cranium crushing in upon its pitiful rodent brain. To my dismay, it lived yet. I repeated the process several times until only a bloody spot remained where the head had been. I could see an ear. It seemed the body of the mouse still rose and fell with breath. I despaired again. Thinking of how to prepare the mouse for lunch (I must have my maid see to it), I left it there upon the attic floor and returned to the stairs. I thought how large and grand they were, and how beautiful was their oak wood as I descended them.
Dreamed by Aaron DeWeese, Wednesday, August 24, 2011
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