Vinyl Hungre

This is a waking finnegan kind of post.

I am walking through a house like my own, but bigger, more expansive. I'm surprised how little room the 70's style furniture takes up. There are silk couches, chinese banners, and fans on the wall. I spread out my arms as I walk from one hall to the next, then back again, glorifying it. There could be others there, but if there are, they aren't as actively impressed. The snow is melting off of gloves and scarves on the radiators, dripping onto the hardwood floor. It is so loud! This creates a damp, heated air around me and I feel feverish. I sit down at the record-player and take out a black shiney record. I'm not sure why, but there is a man sitting in front of me with his hands folded, as if he is about to give me psychotherapy. Suddenly his eyebrows crease and he makes a hand motion that says "get on with it then!" I look at him questioningly but his anticipation confirms him. I try to size up the record, holding it vertically then horizontally, but I think it best horizontal. Then I start trying to shove it in my mouth. Since the record is so big, I feel like it's impossible. The sides of my mouth stretch to take in more and more, but I'm not even close to the diametre yet. It goes so slowly, and I can see the little grooves in front of me shimmering. The record is so wide! The man looks disappointed. I suddenly hate him so much, I want to crunch the record and spit the shards in his face! It starts cutting the sides of my mouth and I groan. My face feels like it's turning inside out, blood is flowing down, then I wake up with drool all over my pillow.