The Erotic Dream of Miley Cyrus 1 (second slight revision)

Truth is said to be stranger than fiction but, notwithstanding the very real distances that separate the corporeal fluctuations of, say, a walk in the park with a favoured hound and the implausible modes of communication occasioned by the use a lease, I have come to realise that truth can never be anything other than fiction. Let me explain:

I will start with my nose. Not a small nose by any account, and, at this time of year, quick to chill, which is why I came up with the idea for a nose warmer. It is long and dangly and looks quite preposterous, like a flopsy strap-on, but it is durable, and you can drop hot coals into it.
    When I wore it for the first time it brought to mind the erotic dream of Miley Cyrus. I said I'd explain:

Miley Cyrus recently had an erotic dream, and I was in it, yet not on account of my hot nose, that had nothing to do with it.
   Miley and I go way back, from when I was stationed down the mall and training to catch rabbits.
   'Four horns are better than one!' she enthused, when she called to tell me about it, and I couldn't agree more. It all started, she said, when she tried to polish my wheels. She was needing to use more spittle than she would have liked, and had become quite dry, so she got this idea that if she tugged on my nipples she might get some lubricant, and it just sort of took off from there. I shan't bore you with the details.

Afterwards, she took me for a walk, probably in the hope that I would catch her something to eat. But then apparently I just disappeared. She found herself swimming somewhere, and not so very far away was a green rose, suspended just above the water, almost close enough for her to reach.

Well this recollection set me to thinking.
   I'd heard tell of an island in Africa, where there are people who eat wild horses as they run. I went there. My guide was Tiyu, who would be considered a true beauty on any side of the globe. When she wasn't looking I stole beads from her gown, and where I dropped them down grew.
   I wanted never to see her eyes lose their lustre, even if that meant I should die there. So I went to petition the trees she had emerged from, and bashed my hammer; bashed it on the ground, which brought down Hooli-Ma. He showed me his treasures, and his kidneys on strings, and I said, "Hooli-Ma! Let's go eat" for it seemed an age since I had last done so. But as we walked the disquieting squelch that came from his boots made me reconsider, as I was fast losing my appetite.
   "Ahem!" I spluttered "I need to disappear into the bushes" and Hooli-Ma gave me a look that suggested he knew exactly what I meant, and I gave him a look by return that said I knew he knew exactly what I meant, even though I didn't mean that at all. What I actually meant was that I needed to disappear, into the bushes, in the hope that I might find Tiyu again.
   So he stood there waiting as I headed into the thicket, which was dense, and hard to penetrate, but started to thin when I was out of view, until the shrubbery turned to small trees with twigs of fire, which were easier to pass through, even though they streaked my flesh with long, thin burns.
   From a short way ahead I started to hear groans, as of someone immensely weary, and advanced in the direction from which I thought the sounds came, soon perceiving a dark figure lying prostrate on the ground.
   She was The Keeble. She was weary, and had fallen. Her flesh was soft, and she wanted me to push a finger into her navel. I did so, and felt the tickling roll of tiny motors from behind her skin.
   "Mammaries" she called weakly through her agony, but I hadn't a clue what she wanted. Must I suckle her, or grope her, or did she want my breasts to suckle and grope, as unlikely as that seemed?
   "Mammaries" she called again, as she bit the end off her own finger and showered me with the milk that gushed from the wound, at which she started to steadily recover her composure, and then she leapt into the air and away, leaving in her place a cryptic note.
  
   "It is a book that lies apart,
   and passes through the
   Scripted Ruins" the note said.

Ahead of me was the hollowed trunk of a tree, and calculating that the slimy coating of milk I had received would be sufficient to lubricate my passage, I dived headlong into it, and down I slid, as though I was passing through a digestive tract.
   As I slid speedily downward I felt a loud, ominous thump against the trunk, as though it had been struck by something heavy, but I detected no creature in pursuit, and safely continued to slide face first, until I came to an opening that gave onto an area of thick, dense fog; so dense that it actually served to break my fall.
   When I had recovered my senses I started to walk, but aside from the reduced visibility the vegetation around me had also started to rapidly grow, and was soon so dense that I could no longer venture forward, only upward, and it was thus that I started to climb the sturdiest sprout, recalling a story I had once heard.

Upwards and upwards, from branch to bough, until I counted myself many, many meters above the ground, at which point I became aware of a glow, cutting through the fog above my head, and I thought this might indicate a window above, or even a door.
   As I continued, I saw more clearly, and started to notice that there were sleighs hanging from branches, where reindeer were moored, nibbling at the leaves, and I gradually came to perceive that I was approaching some sort of gaily lit grotto, from which, upon my approach, all sorts of ghosts and specters started to flood, as though afraid, followed by a large bubble of water, at the centre of which beat a translucent heart, at the centre of which beat another, smaller, but quite opaque.

I had a strong desire to slap the bubble, to see if it would burst. Instead, I decided to hug it, but as I did this, I perceived that the entity was starting to identify me as its mother, and believed I could feel it trying to suckle a nipple, even the bite of its watery mouths—or was that simply the impression of cold? Whatever, I succumbed, until blood was drawn, and the whole experience became intolerably painful, at which point I squeezed, then it burst.

It vapourized, leaving two hearts clinging to my teats. They darted this way and that across my chest, leaving bloody lacerations, but as my blood leaked, so did it drain from the hearts, which became quite transparent.

They now sprouted tails, which whipped my chest, as my stomach lurched. At the centre of each of the hearts there was a book, and the hearts themselves had started to move all over my body, as though they were checking that I was real.

So absorbed was I by this process that I failed to notice the two men who had approached me, passing to either side, each grasping one of my arms, and carrying me onward between them.

However, as we advanced, it slowly dawned on me that it was I who was carrying them along.

As we walked we gathered momentum, until they started to spin like cartwheels, but when I stopped they shattered, into diamond shards like stars.

A clatter of whispers effervesced through my mind. A name: was it Nina?

Rocks tumbled from above onto my head and shoulders, then everything around me started to collapse and I started to fall, to who knows where.

When I landed, it was with a bump, which made my bum sore, and I saw that I was sat upon a shingle beach, onto which the sea rolled. A boat full of fisherman was rowing toward the shore, with someone held captive between them. When they landed they disembarked awkwardly, as though they might be lost in a dream, and I saw quite distinctly that the person they had been transporting was the anti-christ, Ubu.

From his mouth emerged a purple bubble. It expanded until it encompassed him.

One of the fishermen started to ring a small handbell. This made me jump. The bubble formed a cocoon around Ubu. It floated into the sky, as though emptied and light.

His captors spun beneath him from the chains they had used to bound him, and although the freedom he enjoyed as he floated into the distance may have been illusory, he carried his captors away.

Together in the distance they formed a constellation. It is the constellation that is now known as The Bubble.

I turned away and bound like a moonlight deer, this way and that; over rivers and through trees, until the blue light reappeared, although the balance between day and night remained unstable.

But think again. The evidence is right before us.

As I concentrated on the distant display, a priest sneaked up on me from behind and swiftly decapitated me. My head rose, as a new sun, while my own world was darkness only.

As my head floated adrift I felt roots connect it to my body, much as life and death refuse to detach entirely from each other, and with this in mind I let out a peal of laughter.

Seven silver unicorns, signifiers of purity, passed through the darkness, up and down, appearing random in their motion, yet held together by an unfathomable design.

Through a distant red glow my body departed, away with the reindeer, and I was beset by sadness.

A pretty girl stood near the corpse. She wore an animal skin. There was a flashing EXIT sign. I was connected to my body by an umbilicus.

A flash of sunlight blinded me. I started to sprout.

I rose into the clouds. Lightning crackled through my hair. Each bolt was a different hue.

Water cascaded down my brow and face. I floated freely, feeling happy to do so. Until I received a blow to the mouth.

The Erotic Dream of Miley Cyrus 5

Then they reappeared, lying upon the floor of a dingy cell. A man in furs approached and they rose into the air. He grabbed them, one in each hand, and wielded them as a shield. Against the noise.
   He was in a state of anxiety. He was losing consciousness. He dropped to his knees, oppressed, and helpless with self reproach.
   He held himself aloof, as though he had been blotted out by a dark stain.
   We then saw him riding desperately on horseback, still clutching the shit encrusted bats. His eyes were fixed intently, upon what target I know not and fear that he was likewise ignorant of his cause. He rode at such great speed that the faecal shrouds were stripped from the bats, followed by their skins, which, together with those of the man and the horse, flailed about in the air behind them as they rode onward, twining and untwining into a form that resembelled an animated paper ball and finally unravelling to reveal a sphere of light.
   This was the catalytic fuel.
   From it was born a child of blood, who let out a most hideous cry. It was Alice, who flared up like a candle, although her face was wreathed in laughter.
   I shook her hand and she, in turn, looked me up and down. Her hands were cold as ice and her stomach palpitated as though she was ready to heave.
   From between her lips there slowly spun a helical web and as her mouth gaped I thought I saw a chasm filled with stars.
   She chomped at the web with her tiny teeth, breaking it down into irregular pieces, as golden blood flowed.
   She unfastened her robe and removed it, then lay upon the ground face up, as though she wished to sleep, but instead drew a hand gun.
   Undaunted, children ran in and formed a ring about her, then danced gaily in a circle as they sang.
   One stooped, in passing, and took a nipple into its mouth to suckle, then immediately collapsed, as though death itself had been siphoned from the teat.
   Things, however, were not what they seemed.
   I snatched the pistol from Alice and armed myself with it. I looked around cautiously and saw that some kind of stage had been erected before me. A car drew up and from it stepped a lady who approached me and folded a hand over mine, reassuringly.
   I was gripped by a comforting sense of magical nostalgia. The lady stood casually to one side and peeled an orange, then squeezed the juice onto her breast and spread it around with her fingers, painting a design upon her skin.
   When she had finished she whinnied with laughter and left, as all the props were lifted into the air and borne away, leaving a single cell, without windows or doors.
   A canonball dropped from above and shattered, revealing a skull, which rose gracefully into the sky, as light as a kite, trailing a mysterious long thread.
   I felt a touch and realised she was back, only this time she was almost twice her size, in fact, she was quite colossal.
   Her presence excited and ennervated me. I was a butterfly, basking in the warmth of her glow. I rose, sparkling, into the moonlight air.

The Erotic Dream of Miley Cyrus 4

Suddenly, I was awakened and discovered that I was stretched upon a couch in a therapy room, whilst an analyst stood before me, with arms extended, palpitating my sides and observing the way that I was breathing.
   Satisfied, he took a palette of colours from beside him and started to paint my face. At the corners of my eyes he painted tears of blood. He felt my chin for stubble. He started to mould my face like plasticine. He would shape for me the perfect face.
   Next, he concentrated on rearranging my body. Firstly, he plumped me up, and then he patted me down: fat then thin then fat then thin. I started to rise, free from my physical trappings. I was an oak.
   The Psych laid offerings of food and flowers at my roots. My bark opened out to reveal the interior of a small theatre. The front of the stage was lined with little people who waited patiently in anticipation of receiving a gift. The Psych removed them one by one, pinching the napes of their necks. He set them down before him and started to tell them a story: 'Once upon a time we walked together through a forest, hand in hand.' There was something in my mind, but could I bear to speak out? Truth or Art? That those around me were simply hollow fabrications into which I had pumped life. But I was distracted as I listened to him speak and imagined us passing through an avenue flanked by applauding spectators. I affected the demeanour of a pantomime artiste. I was the puffed up king.
   Before us was a large, square room with no ceiling and one missing wall. Into this I guided my faithful entourage. We were greeted by a woman, tall, lithe and fair. I was fascinated by her, but the others clearly were not. One by one they each drifted back in the direction from whence they had come and when the woman herself attempted to approach me she suddenly collapsed to the floor, quite dead, and started to rapidly decay.
   From the place she had fallen there flowed two thin rivulets which stretched like arms towards me. At their apex a solitary acorn poked from the ground, opening out to reveal a child. I was afraid.
   A hatchway opened in the floor before me and from below rose the grinding sound of a horrendous machine.
   I froze and took a long moment of deep reflection. That done, I felt the brief perception of a chill breath upon me. I felt, furthermore, as though I was ready to take my own life. I laid down upon the grass.
   From behind me I heard the beeping of an earth moving machine reversing. It was trying to tip me into the hole, like a coin into a money box.
   At this point everything started to blur. However, I could perceive, in the distance, a place of anguish, lit, it seemed, by flashes of lightning.
   Memories that had been concealed rose to the surface of my mind. A peasant house in which a very aged couple stood, hand clasped in hand, before an altar. From their free hands they each released a bat then called out "Stay!" at which command the bats froze, suspended in the air. The couple then grasped the bats like stones and hurled them with a mighty force, as though they were missiles, through an open window, towards the distant town, which they entered via the jaws and passed right through, to the anus, from which they made their exit, covered in excrement, floating freely in the night sky, unattainable. Suddenly, they were snatched away, as though they had been torn from view.

The Erotic Dream of Miley Cyrus 3

These ruins contain a secret: a book of lies, which also acts as its heart.

The skins moved. They bent and folded, they formed into spheres and rose as balloons. They steadily floated, with deliberation, in a direction I felt compelled to follow.
    The belly was open to me, and there was no obstacle that would prevent me from entering, but there was also no way to determine whether I was travelling toward the neck, and beyond that the mind, or whether I was passing through to the anus.
   The flesh balloons had become heavier and descended to the ground, rolling away then bursting to reveal Gyron, in a flash of red, Pile, with sparks of green, Cotise, in a shower of blue, and, ahead of them, a dark, shadowy figure, exceptionally fat in protuberance[. True enough, it was Black Ubu].
   He started to declaim his poetry in a voice that sounded uncannily like the flush of a toilet: "If nights are taboo but work contrite try hard to hallucinate harp's purr fat thus howling forces heart ride home thus knives recorded art spot crack! An invite in black, in a rock left from up-fall, is party base average, avoid."
   All four turned and plunged deeper into the belly, causing the utmost damage as they rended organs and bones, leaving behind them an undefinable odour. It seemed that madness itself had been set free.
   Those free ranging bodies drew me in, and it seemed it was a god's hand that guided me within, towards a ritual centre, and I thereby feel protected, the safety of my journey assured.
   A ring of light above my head soon marked an outlet. I rose towards it, as though born on tiny wings, whilst all the while I felt the tug of the ground, as Gyron, Pile and Cotise passed me by, travelling back in the opposite direction. I started to sweat blood.
   My mother's warning rang in my ears: "The saddles of wishes trap the husbands we farm."
   A pulse of sunlight was emitted from the aperture and I was as one transformed: as a bloody fish I was sucked through the pouting mouth. I was a whale, ejaculating: stars into the depths, the firmament. I was buoyed by a wave of voices that slowly intoned: "Breaking." I was a new species of human. My old attachments were now washed away; they burst from the bubble of my skin as a grape dispels its juices. I was filled with the will of a supreme being, embracing my destiny. I was a cold sun, a false eye. I burst.
   I was born away to the region of dreams. Here I sat wearily, my head in my hands. The attendant took a ticket from between my fingers and tore it. There was a long low peal of thunder, as darkness descended.
   The screen lit up and there proceded a vision of the future: a lightning flash, illuminating the body of a woman contained within a cell, who lay naked, shivering, upon the cold earth.
   From out of nowhere a metal booted foot delivered her a swift kick at which she, recovering her composure more quickly than I thought she might, tapped upon the ground three times with the tip of a finger and lifted her head, enabling us to see her face; offering us an insight into her heart and mind, in which could plainly be discerned love, as though the transmission of that signal were her sole purpose.
   Whether owing to the countenance she projected or something within me that yearned, she seemed uncommonly beautiful, and as she rose wings unfurled at her back, although they would be of no use to her in her current state of confinement.
   She turned away from us, looked into a mirror and recognised herself. The mirror itself glowed with the feathered green hues of an Emerald Beauty. She spoke, but we could hear nothing and witnessed only the motion of her lips. Frosted tears adorned the corners and the lower lids of her eyes. She pressed her face to the glass, as though she were peering through a window, then passed into it and beyond, as through the skin of a pool, rising into the sunlight, with water clinging to her body like a gown, and so she disappeared from view.

The Erotic Dream of Miley Cyrus 2

I had been hit by a clod of earth and thin rivulets of dirty water ran down my chin. I needed to defecate, and when I was done I started to whistle. I was ready.
    The air around me was suffused with a stormy, fairy grove light, cast by blue tulip torches, and I felt compelled to speak, but what I said surprised me:
    'I espouse inevitable friendships. Touch an arm and power gives truth artistry. Intuition cuts across the poetry prayer and knows a new papa, for children linked with joyous sins offend normality.'
   As I made my way towards the flashing EXIT sign I noticed that a copious quantity of blood was now pouring from my mouth, as the neck of a headless bird emerged from between my lips. It rose into the air where it turned and hovered above my head, as though it were studying me.
   My twin, now wearing the severed head of the bird, ran up beside me, agitating wildly. His arms, neck and legs had become the pipes and drones of a living bagpipe and as he ran he wheezed an unholy din. Without warning, he viciously swung a scimitar through my neck and I dropped to the ground, where I lapsed into a deep sleep.
   A golden globe slowly lowered itself from the sky to alight upon the ground between my partitioned head and my torso. At the centre of this Golden Orb was a book. The orb rose into the air, where it floated, as the book opened out to reveal that it was, internally at least, a spelling book. The first word we were able to see was spread across two pages. It was CHILD HOOD, and thus it became obvious that the book was in fact a mirror of my own mind. The page turned and the next pair of pages read SEA SONS, then came COUNT LESS, followed by SET TING.
   My hair started to lift and vibrate excitedly, but this sudden surge served to occlude the word for which I was seeking; I saw instead RAIN DROPS. My electro-charged hair then seemed to reel my head towards my neck, as though it were imitating the mechanism of a tape machine, and the next word revealed was DOG MA, then BE CAUSE.
   My hair was gripped, clenched into a bunch at the top back, and my head was lifted, with my heart hanging in the air beneath it; radiant, but invisible. From its base blossomed and opened a vagina, wide as a zero. Beneath this hung a long golden thread with, at its end, and planted firmly upon the ground, a foot.
   The vagina slowly diffused a light that sheathed the body thus far created and started to flesh it out. It became immensely hairy, and an audience started to gather around, as though they thought of me as some kind of exhibit. I blushed, for I was naked, and raw.
   Now winged, however, I took to the air. I was an eagle knight. I soared through the clouds to some distant ruins. But this was a place where all forms were transient: at once in a state of collapse, or in graves, and likewise whole, or living. One moment I might have been looking at something that was in every way complete, but the next it would lay before me, destroyed. The sun and the moon likewise rapidly alternated, but without the discomfort of flashing light, whilst it was my head that appeared to flash, as though it were a belisha strobe, if such a thing were possible. On, when darkness surrounded. Off, when the day became light, in such a way that the area was never truly dark.
   In the flickering light, projections of texts, quaint drawings and photographed memories. Walls and doors that were draped with skin, which acted as some kind of barrier, but which could be brushed away as easily as cobwebs, or that is at least what I thought, because what was actually happening was that my hand was passing through them, as though I were a ghost.