These Dreams

A city walking through the dreamlands. Its name is Led (long e), and it's heard before it's seen. Heard by shivering, rattling footsteps for days before it looms in the sleeping mind, a ramshackle affair of ancient brick and fog. It's a giant machine, and the grey-suited gentlemen who walk its streets are only parts of the machine, the city's eyes and hands. There's something hidden among the twisting cobblestone streets of the city, stowed in some secret place in its leaning, breathing buildings, and I don't know what that is, but I spend the night in a grey suit, wandering among the clockwork men, looking for it.

I woke up, and felt tired.