smokingboot

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	Ace of Inhalers smokingboot
A girl, accompanied by a playful iguana, floats in her bedroom pointing at the moon outside her window. The curtains move, the iguana's tale curls, everything is shifting and changing.
Divinatory Meanings: Time to question your medication. Cheap but disturbingly powerful drugs: Teleportation displacements, reptile attacks, poltergeist plagues, strong cheese before bedtime; the trip is starting. You are about to grow a new tail.
Reversed: Time to question your medication. Expensive but disturbingly crap drugs. Teleportation displacements, reptile attacks, poltergeist plagues, strong cheese before bedtime. The trip is ending. Your tail is about to drop off. You will never grow a new one.
Element: sinister/dexter

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Very strange dreams last night, without enhancement of any kind to explain them away. A sad little dog in an aquarium cage, my brother with me in a house. It was his dog, I insisted he freed it. The dog ran around barking happily. The house was bedlam, full of animals and people. Found myself with

ephraim we were meant to be joint presenters of something, reading from a script.But the script was badly written and made no sense
at all; hundreds of graphs and pie charts, everything out of sync. We improvised, we were doing well. A long story then followed of Dr Who and the Master. He looked normal, he was just dying. Long car chase.

Found myself looking at a child's crayon book, maybe colouring it in myself...crayon high rise buildings, tall buildings, city landscape, all coloured red and orange. I looked at it and found myself colouring them in, with the word, 'Fire' next to them. A big badly drawn superhero stood next to them. I coloured him in yellow.

Quiet part of the house, again with my brother. A long narrow corridor, with some kind of conveyor belt along it, curious little objects. The door at the end of the corridor led out to the garden.
Looked at the little objects, one I can't remember, one a silver norse statue of loki that caught fire, and one a silver norse statue of another figure. Kept trying to remember a name for him, like the guardian of winter or something. He looked strong. My brother was with me again; I had decided to go through the door to try and make sense of all this. He suggested that we find the name of the guardian, the builder of the house before I did. We looked and we found his name carved in small letters on the seats. I recall the name now, but do not write it down, lest it is someone else's secret.

Went into the garden leaving bro behind. Wintery but beautiful. I had a book in my hand, which I read, full of the observations/poetry/meanderings of a woman, very elegant and sophisticated; you could read her words at the height of her sophistication, quite extraordinary, and you could read her thoughts as she grew old, but here was the thing. As you read on, the thoughts changed, not like the deterioration of old age or the mind's decay; no, you could tell it by the freshness of her writing, something about the quality; it was impossible, but there was no other way to put it; As time went on, the lady was growing younger.

There the dream ended, and I was woken by Ralik demanding a tribute of blood or catfood.

Speaking of youth, the wind blows very hard and though Quincey looks pretty, planted at the centre of the garden, she may be too young not to break or blight. They say that not shielding your trees from the wind makes them grow strong and gives fungal infection less chance to take hold. But pearwood is not strong. Our house has its back to a park, and the wind roars down it very convincingly. Quincey might be safer against the fence or shed wall. I wish I knew what I was doing!