cobalt

THE DREAM: The Queen of Microbiology and
Bill Cole are living in the same concrete bunker as I am.
In the middle of the night, she knocks gently on my door,
comes in, and silently, naturally climbs into bed with me.

She realized the truth was a weapon.

Cole is my friend, but I cannot resist her
Queen lips, I plummet into her Queen eyes, her Queen limbs envelop me.
Intimate saturations, warmth and comfort. I must, I will, have her in every way.

Your revelation should not be an act of defiance

The very next morning at lunch, the Queen suddenly stands up.
Points her accusing finger at me, and in earshot of the cafeteria, yells at me.
INFIDELITY! INFIDELITY!! INFIDELITY!
All the while, yelling while evaporating, while transparently fading into brick.
Proteus
knows what happened. I am afraid. Afraid. I am
afraid that Cole will be compromised.

Theres no need to refer constantly to your confession

her rambling stream of consciousness narrative

I have resolved not to tell him about the dream.

the atmosphere you wish to create

++++++++++++++

A baroque disaster.