The Ziggurat

I dreamt of a pyramid floating in the sky. It was metal, because there was a city inside. I find myself at first on the industrial level, chinese lanterns, steam, noodle restraunts. But then I find my way to a higher tier.

It’s a wide, grey plaza. Open to the sky. Neat, ordered. Clean as a Nazi. A woman in a tight, frigid suit is speaking to me. She’s some kind of leader. This place is Utopia. Stiff functionaries are arrayed behind her. Unsmiling in their praise.

I walk a little away, exploring. They remain where they are. I find a small area of pink tiles. There is a texture to them, kind of lumpy, like a map.

“It’s a park.” Says the dictatress, “We are proud of our great park.”
This makes me furious. I scream at them that this in no way resembles a park. That people need parks, that they are full of bullshit. I have offended them, but they don’t chase me when I storm off.

I walk quickly behind some buildings, expecting to get gestapo’d any moment. It’s an alley, still anally clean but with something of a more rebellious feel. I stop to stand in the doorway to a cafe. The man at the counter gives me a knowing smile.

Suddenly, a dazzling girl walks by. Hair dyed red, piercings every which way. A little plump but furiously proud. Walking in slow motion, escaping utopia to party forever in the lower levels. She turns, and briefly, nonchalantly, catches my eye.

I step out without thinking, and am confronted by the next tier of the pyramid. A phallic chrysler building. Flashing with gaudy neon. Thrust into depressing skies. The answers are to be found there. It’s dangerous to enter, but it’s the only way to liberate this city from its pain. To kill whatever king lives there, to start a golden age.

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