Dreaming Martha.

I had a strange dream last night.

I was in a small white room with a window that looked out at a dove-gray October sky and a black skeletal tree. I was standing at a table that was directly before the window, and I was dipping a bundle of red roses into a pot filled with melted gold. The gold was the consistency of maple syrup and coated the roses with an iridescent armor. The gold that dripped back into the pot was tinted with red from the roses, and it spread over the surface in circular waves. Tom Waits was sitting in a rocking chair in the corner, playing "Martha" on his guitar. It was beautiful. I was sad to wake up.