/lit/ - Literature

from my dream diary:

>in house of dark untreated timber on a dark lake
>look out window see strange (in what respect?) blonde people swimming some distance away
>father arrives home with another old man I know is his boss (in actuality father is self employed)
>my brother makes some coarse jokes that don't suit the occasion and I yell at him to shut up from the next room
>my mother, father, brother, and father's boss all go to bed together and I bed down in a large, empty room like an attic
>appearance of female(?) grotesque who attempts to fraternize with me; I am disgusted and go downstairs
>there is an abyss at the back of the house, and wooden dolls that resemble family, boss, and grotesque female tumble from upper floor into abyss and disappear
>feeling of relief, then an intense desire to leave
>leave the house which is now very small, the tiny playhouse of an ugly child who I understand has been killed
>realise I look suspicious and ascend brick steps to street level
>police come and I neither flee nor surrender, I just walk along and say something like 'fine' or 'whatever' when they accost me
>in interrogation room, plead my innocence impassioned but eloquent, but it has no effect
>as I lose my temper the interrogators disappear and I am in a similar room with a middle aged-ish man in profile to me, squatting on his haunches
>he looks at me and says something like 'that wasn't so bad, an interesting experience?' in a somewhat patronising 'I told you so' tone like I am his wife or something
>I realise it is a dream but lose my nerve for some reason and run away screaming that I want to wake up and end the dream
>I see a clown on the other side of an elevator door and I think: the clown will kill me so I can wake up
>I corner the clown in the elevator and he shrinks away in fear, groaning and making a strange face sucking in his lips like a toothless old man
>I realise I am making the same sound/face as I draw closer to him, not sure if I am imitating the clown or he is imitating me
>very close to the clown's face and I wake up very distinctly, just 'BAM'; scrabble at waking life like it is loose stones

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