The Photo Machine – A Dream

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17 August 2017 Thursday 5:17am

I was stalking a couple. When the man noticed I was following them, I pretended to ask for directions. I asked him where to get a blood test. He pointed to a building.

Inside, there were a couple of men sitting around in an office. I spoke to one who had greying hair. He ignored me. I asked him again whether this was the place to get a blood test. And still he ignored me. I persisted. Then he finally said he wasn’t paying attention. Which, I thought, was contradictory.

I was about to walk away when somebody approached me and helped me out.

He brought me to what looked like a photo studio. He told me I have to have my photo taken.

While he was preparing his machine, a tall and dark man came into the studio who wanted to use the public phone. He turned to me as if he wanted me to remember him. I thought I did but I changed my mind. “No, I don’t remember you,” I said.

The photographer then asked me to keep still because his machine was ready.

But another man came and fiddled with it. I told him, “You can’t use it. It’s in operation right now.” He left.

Then a lady with short, fuchsia-coloured hair came and spoke to the photographer about medicine while he was fiddling with his photo machine. And she kept on chatting to him.

I was keeping very still when a wire-like arm slid out from the machine and hovered around my face. It traced a straight line right down my nose which hurt. I thought for sure there was blood. It seems the line on my nose is a mark, so that the machine can detect my face for the photo.

I waited for the machine to take the shot.

I woke up.