Rock & Roll Nazi


I am at a gig with Steve. The band I dreamt of the other night are performing. Most have cartoon cardboard instruments. One woman plays cello. 

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We are with Ori and a crazy old lady who is supergluing things to our skin and suggesting clothes. She gives me an intricate tattoo on the back of my left hand. It includes a swastika and the phrase “rock n roll nazi”. I am wearing a jacket with a patch on of the same design. I worry that people will think me racist. The old lady insists that we will be the most interesting people at her party she superglues gold shapes to Steve’s face. 
 
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We are ushered to the door and told to be aware of wet clay on the floor. I thought they were planning to throw us out. 
 
I am outside running. I have gloves on to hide the tattoo. I have difficulty with my right leg. I take a step and slide through the air, counting. I get to about 40 before taking the next step. I am running uphill with ease. I enter a building. I want water but there’s only a radiator pipe leaking oily water. I keep leaving the room, forgetting my scarf or shoes and having to go back. 
 
As I try to leave, I realise I am in an Islamic women’s hostel. I am now in Arab dress and trying, unsuccessfully, to leave without being detected. There’s a young woman from Kyrgyzstan having sex in one room. She sees me and looks ashamed. As I leave I tell her to keep having sex, and that Allah likes it. 
 
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