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Oh, I'm. I'm. The Bungalow House

By Thomas Legatti

Early last September

I discovered among the exhibits in a local art gallery

a sort of performance piece in the form of an audio tape.

This, I later learned, was the first of a series of tape-recorded dream monologues by an unknown artist.

The following is a brief and highly typical excerpt from the opening section of this work.

I recall that after a few seconds of hissing tape noise, the voice began speaking. There was far more to deal with in the bungalow house than simply an infestation of vermin,

although that too had its questionable aspects. I could see only a few of the bodies where

the moonlight shone through the open blinds of the living room windows and fell upon the carpet. Only one of the bodies were the moonlight shown through the open blinds of the living room windows

and fell upon the carpet. Only one of the bodies seemed to be moving, and that very slowly,

but there may have been more that were not yet dead. Aside from the chair in which I sat in the

darkness, there was very little furniture in the room, or elsewhere in the bungalow house for

that matter but a number of lamps were positioned around me and floor lamps and table lamps and

even two tiny lamps on the mantel above the fireplace the bungalow house was built with a fireplace

...