in the general bbs moorea recently posted some examples of the kinds of dreams you can expect to see once the switch is flipped to turn them on. i like 'em, myself! so i thought i'd show you some more. these are not 'favorites', they're just several in a row generated in testing. hope you enjoy them! ~pooh
You trickleap to the curbstone and halt again. You brush a mudflake from your cheek with a parcelled hand.
Leave the gentleman alone, you cheat. Writing the gentleman false letters. Streetwalking and soliciting. Better for your mother take the strap to you at the bedpost, hussy like you.
Justin says, with a cry of pain, hand to back, Ah! Brights! Lights!
Ladies and gentlemen, my educated greyhound. It was I broke in the bucking broncho Ajax with my patent spiked saddle for carnivores. Lash under the belly with a knotted thong. Block tackle and a strangling pulley will bring your lion to heel, no matter how fractious, even leo ferox there, the Libyan maneater. A redhot crowbar and some liniment rubbing on the burning part produced Fritz of Amsterdam, the thinking hyena. I possess the Indian sign. The glint of my eye does it with these breastsparklers. I now introduce Mademoiselle Ruby, the pride of the ring.
Slow music, please. Shut your eyes, gents. One moment. A little trouble about the white corpuscles. Silence, all.
Luz points to the navvy. A spy. Do not attract attention. I hate stupid crowds. I am not on pleasure bent. I am in a grave predicament.
Your friend has become a minor show business celebrity, and is making an appearance on Wheel of Fortune. "Oscar Madness", is the stage name. The big wheel spins.
Shocked, on weak hams, you halt. Tommy and Jacky vanish there, there. You pat with parcelled hands watchfob, pocketbookpocket, pursepoke, sweets of sin, potatosoap.
When the sun broke the cloud cover the people danced for joy. Mirthless high malicious laughter. Where are your wits?
Police tout. Her name and address she then told with my tooraloom tooraloom tay. Mercadante: seven last words. You ought to be ashamed, I said, to look so antique.
Orangegroves and immense melonfields north of Jaffa. Safe in the arms of kingdom come. No, no, no, no, no. I owe nothing.
TelGar says, Humbugging and deluthering as per usual with your cock and bull story.
No. Must be two of em. Glue em well. Mouth to her mouth's kiss.
Separation. Symbols too of beauty and power. Redcoats.
Your little baby has come to life again. It had only been cold. You rubbed it before the fire, and it lives.
Low wooden desks with wood-backed chairs, small, childrens' size. It's confusing when people change desks. You go back to where you were, and the faces aren't familiar.
Young kisses: the first. Far away now past. Mrs Marion. Reading, lying back now, counting the strands of her hair, smiling, braiding.