Dream Architect

 

No one had ever been in my dreams before. But damn, I loved her. So I held the curtain aside for her, bashfully. Her rational eyes swallowed my dreamscape.
"Who's your interior designer?" she asked.
And I hated that I was in love with someone who had to even ask.
 

Babies on Sale

 

I couldn't believe my eyes when I came home from work. There were babies crawling everywhere - I mean everywhere! And she stood in the kindergarten our living room had become, face an infuriating 'oops'.
"They were going so cheap," she pleaded.
I said nothing.
It was the last straw.
 

Samba Pa Ti

 

I died and went to heaven. A glittering upper-class party in the clouds.
Carlos Santana struck Samba Pa Ti as I descended the stairs, dazed.
Mum appeared from the parting crowds, beaming at me.
"I thought I'd... go.. to hell..." I stammered.
Mum smiled simply.
"So did Santana," she said.

Story of my Life

 

I fear the bustling, peopled world outside. And all the other peopled worlds, in the real universe. Numbers conspiring to make me feel small.
     But I can rush into myself, slam the door behind me. To a deeper, larger universe. More fascinating, involving, realer. Larger. And I feel infinitely big.

Prima Ballerina

 

 A flock of hysterical ballerinas huddled close, trembling.
Stricken stage-crew stood around her body. She lay lifeless in the golden dressing-room light, bloody as her unopened rose bouquet.
The choreographer wept asthmatically - "Someone call the police!"
Despair reigned in the theatre.
But somewhere in the wings, an understudy grinned.