cobwebs

My head feels as if it has been colonised by bees. They buzz inside my brain, knocking against my skull as they flit hurriedly about, making honey in my sinuses, tickling my throat. A beekeeper goes about his business, looking through my eyes into the beehive, examining my ears to keep check on their progress. He seems satisfied. Pats me on the back, let's me go.

Had a strange dream last night:

Some wild beasts congregate around the stump of a tree that's been rotted out, struck by lightning. They are all moving their heads to some kind of invisible music. Behind them, 12 hills hoists laden with clothes spin. From an aerial view, they are tessellating, their movements identical, complementary and a woman with a hunch and cobwebs for hair moves back and forwards beneath them, muttering under her breath, clicking her yellow dentures rhythmically. She says few words, but looks at me and spits

"NOTHING!"

She emanates a ruby light, and the outline of her figure moves about her, as if her spirit is bursting to be free of its decaying vessel.