Transfictive Dream
Transfictive Dreams By Alan Teague Bittig It is four thirty in the morning. The night has peaked; the darkness is complete and inescapable. Thick mist rises from the ground and coats the air with a heavy, sad smelling perfume of ozone and pollutants. I am walking down a lonely street in the temporarily abandoned heart of the cities downtown. Just two hours ago these streets swarmed with thousands of reckless bodies, this road played stage in countless dramatic...