Peter Cat blogs

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the prattling of the rain on the window sill woke me up from the strangest and most surreal dream. A shapeless apparition with the longest brown hair and molten eyes was chasing me. I tripped and fell from a flight of stairs into a better world, the world that the rain comes  in and cleanses the remnants of a big bad dream.

I recall the desperation of this apparition, the stank of lard and from overuse and desperation, rambling loudly and incessantly in some Germanic dialect that i cant comprehend, chanting and chanting.