jueves, 24 de abril de 2014

Last night dream

I'm, without reason, in a classroom where the majority of the students are girls, but there a few guys too. It's winter and I'm sitting close to a window where the playground can be seen, which it's more like a rubbish dump with some withered trees and thrown tyres and stuff. Garbage.
I ask for permission to go to the bath. I walk a lot searching for the male toilets, but I can't find them. A dog tells me that there are no baths for boys, the only possibility it's use the chemical baths. No, I don't want to get inside because I think that there are dead people and fungus. Finally, I check that nobody's watching and I enter to the girl's bathroom. It's a big room with white shiny ceramic. I keep the lights off and I enter to one of the cubicles and I hear a girl throwing up a few steps away.
Suddenly a group of girls get inside the bathroom and they are noisy, they talk about seventeen magazines and nonsense and they laugh a lot. I pull up my pants and I go out. I can't pee. I spent all the f*uckin day with the urge to orinate. The playground it's full of girls with grey skirts and obviously I can't use a tree without being discovered.
Later I see a bunch of people sliding in benches, like if they were using rollers. The benches have wheels in the legs. I get on one but before I see a friend's girlfriend saying to a friend that she's not  "The Pianist". I cross the courtyard a few times and suddenly people with masks appears. They're doing the banch thing too but they begin to frighten the littlest kids. I can't keep from laughing and I join them and a rabbit mask appears over my face. We're the Childhood Breakers. I keep doing that for a while until I get bored and I get down of the roller-banch. I walk a little more and I see a phrase written in a wall of the college. It says: "THE CAVITIES OF THE WORLD RESISTS. WE'RE THE CAVITIES. SIGNS "THE PIANIST".
In asian schools there are massive suicides... could be "The Pianist" a sad girl of this terrible school? WHO KNOWS.

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