i’m at a high-end department store, and there is much talk of this new kind of plastic surgery. it’s weird. sherry is talking with a representative, and there is mention of cutting LEGS down the middle. i am sickened by the thoughts. sherry mentions how jeanette got the plastic surgery and messed up her legs because she paid little mind to the price, and that she wrecklessly put the vials into her cells. i didn’t quite understand at the time, but i guess jeanette’s butt turned out good? i walk around the store and finally kinda understood what sherry was talking about. the store was largely white and there are all these demos and colorful vials. apparently the new mode of plastic surgery involves cutting open body parts, and then implanting the contents of the colorful vials — each of which do different things — into the cells of the opened body part.
i go back to where sherry was, and some rich lady joins in and explains the process to me. she gives sherry five dollars — i don’t know why — and she takes it.
later, sherry, phil, and i are walking up these carpeted stairwells. very narrow. they only go up and have no space to go down. they’re like… half stairs. the carpet is blue and is like a “runner” carpet that just goes down the center of the stairs. it looks like regular stairs but when you start to step, it’s more like two stairs per every stair… if that makes sense.
later, i’m at versailles… yes, in france. i’m approaching in some black car, sitting in the back seat section. i say, “i’ve been here before.” not sure who else is in the car with me, but it’s full. everything is very white at versailles… the color palette i mean. there is a stereotypical french costumed girl walking around, with tall, white marie antoinette type hair. some girl is mad because it’s her last week in france and she doesn’t want to be going on no art tour. not that versailles is really an art tour.
it turns into halloween. crazy costumed people are running around. my family, annie chen, tina chen, and people are there. they all seem to be content with sitting and doing nothing. i go explore. my mom is at a giant metal door and she turns the key and opens it, takes a glance in, closes it, and leaves without talking to me. looks like there are metal torture device type things in there, but they’re rusty. i try to go in through that door but two women are coming out and direct me like ten feet down to my left, to the “entrance”. i go.
as i open the door to the entrance, “scary music” comes blaring out. before i go in, i’m stopped by a man dressed up as a goblin and a woman dressed up as a goblin wench. the man is very white (not by race, by color) and keeps telling me to “look at this”, as he is unbuttoning his pants. i avoid looking at him. by the fifth time he asks, i look down, and there’s this bright red dildo sticking out of his pants, with two penises on the end of it. i don’t think those even exist??? he cackles and i go inside.
a kid is running around with a knife, going nuts. he seems mentally unstable. i wrestle the knife out of his hands. he stabs me through the hand, but i get the knife from him. i go outside and i’m bleeding. to my right is a food stand of sorts. the boy’s brother is there with a family friend boy, and he is threatening the family friend, saying the family friend caused the little brother to have a knife. i stash the knife — which now is long, skinny, and tapered on the top — on the top of a tin box which is built into the wall (kinda like a fire extinguisher). a big bulky chef comes from behind the food stand. i thought he was going to stop the boys from fighting, but no. he wants the knife. he has a nub arm — missing the front half of his arm and his hands, and he takes the knife to cut off the end of his nub. WHY. i don’t know.
somehow i’m in a hallway now. i call for help with tying a tourniquet around my hand because i mean, it’s my fucking hand that’s hurt, imma have a helluva time tying it. there are a lot of people. no one helps me. now the little boy has been stabbed too and there’s an old lady dying in an all white hallway. everyone cares about the little boy and old lady but no one cares about me. no one helps. i tell the boy’s brother that i was stabbed by the boy so he should help me, but he doesn’t. two guys are easing granny into her death. she is lying down on the floor and they are speaking with her about death. she’s wearing a grey sweater dress of sorts. i find a bulky green rag to use as a tourniquet, but no one helps me and it’s too thick to tie myself.