Entry Dated October 16, 2009
Rainy night. Downtown NYC. Feels like 2004/2005. With my cousin, his future wife, and an old college friend. Looking for a secret bar we’ve heard about. We walk down a dark stairway and come to a door with one of those sliding-gate peephole things, like in the movies. We knock. The gate slides open, revealing the eyes of a woman with a severely burned (or maybe decayed) face. The woman says we’re not welcome here. My cousin’s future wife says the password. The woman with the burned face lets us in.
The bar is dark and candlelit. Everyone inside has burned (or decayed) faces, their ears melted (or rotted) away. They look scary, but they’re very warm and welcoming. We dance together. A prostitute hangs out in the back of the room. Someone warns us not to talk to the prostitute. Metallica’s “Unforgiven” video is projected on the walls. The prostitute approaches me. She looks like a demon.
I wake up in real life. I’m lying in bed like a corpse in a coffin- on my back with my arms folded on my chest. I never ever sleep like that. I always sleep on my side or my stomach.