Day 1:
Cut grass. 
The smell of spring, life 
and dewy morning walks, 
that scent announced the set
of this strange dream:
faintly familiar fields, 
a picture from my childhood
dropped into my subconscious, 
arousing memory and
distorting reality.
 
My pale toes wriggled in the
cool blades-
my feet are always bare in dreams, 
something about feeling the earth 
that way, so intensely, 
brightened the dream 
beyond the dulled reality. 

So it was my child-like feet
that stumbled across...

A chill rattles through your open window, a figure stands in the frame, a pearlescent halo shimmering around her silhouette. 
"Hello?" You say in bewilderment, she turns slowly to reveal her captivating silver hair and dainty features, her irises so grey that her pupils look like black holes devouring light. Craters and dimples sink her skin with acne and scars: the footprints of astronauts. For this beautiful figure is the moon and she has come to visit. 
She hums a...

She's here again. 
Orange blossoms on her cheeks, light rippling in her eyes, turning those brown irises a golden tea colour. Judging from the light it's sunrise, you're sitting on the river bank beside her, the grass is cold and dewy but you don't mind, because she's here. Beautiful as ever. Glowing, an angel, or a goddess? You wish she would stop coming. The frequent visitor of your conscience smiles softly at you, it envelops your heart in warmth, like...

You're already late, goddammit. 
This appointments been in your diary for months, how could you possibly forget!
You need a haircut. 
Ah but the man wearing a purple coat outside the post-office invited you for ice-cream. You can't refuse, so you go.
He has two scoops of amnesia and blues (delicious apparently), you choose one scoop of mid-life-crisis and another scoop of New York city at rush hour. 
It hits you with a caffeine buzz. You're late. So late now.  ...

Cut grass. 
The smell of spring, life 
and dewy morning walks, 
that scent announced the set
of this strange dream:
faintly familiar fields, 
a picture from my childhood
dropped into my subconscious, 
arousing memory and
distorting reality.
 
My pale toes wriggled in the
cool blades-
my feet are always bare in dreams, 
something about feeling the earth 
that way, so intensely, 
brightened the dream 
beyond the dulled reality. 

So it was my child-like feet
that stumbled across it first,  ...