I dream of Noah again.
We have gathered all the animals together as best as we can but they are restless and we can hear them kicking and rattling in their cages. They don't like being cooped up because they are used to being wild.
They are like us in their cages. Trapped and airless. But at least we don't make them do stupid things like helmet and exposure day and they don't have to count their words. We can hear them down in the belly of the boat. Their words are native and vulgar but I am jealous of the fact that they can let them out as often as they want.
Noah has tree hands in this dream. At first I was upset because I wanted them before him but then I realised that they are not very helpful and his trees are more like shrubs. He is just stood there looking at them with puppy eyes. He doesn't know what to do with them and I feel guilty because it's my fault. Everything is my fault because it's my dream and I made Noah and his tree hands. We are on top of the boat looking out. It's a bit like the roof we all had to sleep on after the riot. But it's just me and Noah now and we are looking out at a sea made out of short and stumpy words. The sea is too rough to be able to read many of them and they won't stay still for long enough. I spot a Bone and a Fish ( not a real one, just the word) and a Hello that is turned over in the corner like a page that has been read and bookmarked.
Me and Noah have mindspeak in our dreams. Though we still use our words sparingly because that is what I am used to and I don't want to make myself sick by using too many at once. He is saying the same thing over and over.
'Look at my hands.'
'Look at my hands.'
I have told him I am sorry and that next time it won't be like this and that maybe if I wake up and dream of him again they will be back to normal. He normally has lovely hands. Big fat, spoon hands that smell of the ocean.
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