A diary of the mental compost heap that is my sleeping mind.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Clown Town, USA
I am leaving a building in a big city with my mother. As I reach the sidewalk, a feeling of "the creeps" washes over me. I turn around to find a very short, white-faced, mime-like person dressed in a black and white French clown costume standing RIGHT behind me. Jesus fuck, ew! (Clowns and spiders may be the worst things in the world. Forget Hitler or AIDS...clowns and spiders, man). I just want to get away and run frantically to the car.
We get to the car safely and I'm burning rubber to get out of there. I turn a corner to find a women wearing a costume that is like a cross between something from Carnaval and Michael Myers. Her hair is huge and wild, cloak flowing, holding a shovel upright like a sword, wearing an expressionless white ceramic mask. I attempt to swerve more to get away from her, than to avoid hitting her. As I pass her, she smashes out my back window with the shovel. AHHH! She tries to jump and grab onto the back of the car. I am flinging my car all over the road, trying to shake her off.
Then, suddenly, it's over. Apparently, this is a sort of real world ride or fun house. People pay for this. I'm still scared shitless as I'm mingling in the crowd, talking with the actors, including Mardi Gras Michael Myers. I can't stop thinking how fucked up this is. The little French clown is still staring at me through the crowd.