Chinese Food Dream
The gold-mine on Monkey Mountain was actually a dirt-pit sprinkled with nuggets. Since I was the only one with any recollection of this, it lead to an appointment through the NYSE to the Royal Commissioner or “RC.” Armed with a badge and pistol he claimed it was his purpose to root out insider-trading. I suspected his office was a sham and he himself was deranged but what could I do?
I met the Aztec woman in the decaying courtyard. She had the blackest, brazen-ist hair pulled back into an ornamented braid. She wore a man's white shirt over a lacy brassier and a form-fitting black skirt to the mid-knee over charcoal pantyhose. Her shoes were black stilettos. She could smile huge with lips painted a deep dark red; purple really. She was very smart and I feared falling in love with her even for a little while. Her need for space was limited and I could nearly taste the humus and onions on her tongue. There was dankness to the courtyard that couldn't be placed in either dawn or twilight, and I felt the need to depart quickly. I expected trouble.
At first accompanied by Treasury Agents, then on my own I was encouraged to offer a medal to Andre on stage. Andre was an intimidating giant who had become fearful. After he took the medallion he was slain with a switchblade. {But this was off-stage and I was not present}. It reminded me of TV in which moods shift between consumer narcissism and machismo.
I left on my own and looked all over for the Aztec woman, finally giving up and wandered the streets.