In my dream there are places and people. They all do things, mostly. Some do things in the wrong places, except that this is correct for the dream. A clown with a sword might chop some onions. I do not understand why the clown does this in a field chainlinked and barb wired, but I accept it. And when the clown begins to speak in words that collapse upon themselves, I register nothing but normalcy.

“Weak modeled irony reinvents extrapolation.” My mouth follows suit, what I recall now as something from Nicht l?schbares Feuer.

“A vacuum cleaner can be an effective weapon, an automatic rifle can be a useful household gadget.”

The clown stops chopping onions and smiles like a penguin. On the teeth a man stubs out a cigarette on his arm and I dream in my dream of a girl running down a dirt road, her dress melted to her skin by napalm that cannot be rubbed off. A fire that burns under water. I spin away from the clown and now that I am on a sidewalk, I start walking, the rubber soles of my shoes squeaking on the pavement.

As soon as I know I am dreaming I start to awake. Though I try to go back I do not know how. Before any of my dreams reach an endpoint or answer, I am conscious. They are too agitprop for me to know.

One of those reasons is why I hate clowns.

3 thoughts on “Agitprop

  1. i dunno, i’ve been afraid of clowns since i was a toddler and i was forced into having my picture taken with a whole assemblage of them…

  2. Agitprop…had to look that one up.

    Dreaming of a clown —
    A need to bring laughter and merriment into your life.

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