Epileptic flowers

Me and my girlfriend are slacking in our couch. She’s knitting, which she never does, and I’m on the phone with someone who is both my uncle and his daughter at the same time. I’m querying him/her about old analog cameras; I seem to remember that he had loads of them when we were young, and I’d like to buy them from him. This conversation is very difficult, because my uncle knows what I’m talking about and he’s more than willing to sell, but his daughter is struggling to understand or pass the question on to him, while they are still sort of the same person on the line. I get confused and distracted, and slightly annoyed because one of the cameras my uncle owns is a Nikon that is considered a rare and expensive collectible.

I look up toward the window and I notice some erratic movement behind the unusually thick fabric of the curtain, half way up the length of the window frame. I wonder if it’s one of our cats, but I can’t understand how she’s managed to get up there.

I get up and draw the curtain aside, and to my astonishment I discover a plant sitting on a piece of board sticking out of the frame. Its’ leaves are moving, shaking. A couple of leaves suddenly burst into flames, and I cover my face. My girlfriend calmly informs me that this is typical for epileptic flowers – «they don’t know how or where to channel the energy», she says. I’m relieved, but also a little puzzled.

Thinking out loud, I say: «Wouldn’t it be better if we could use them as a remote for our TV?».

I turn to the TV, and it switches itself on. I wake up.

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Listening to: Archive – Bullets on MediaMonkey
via FoxyTunes