Super Purple

there's a complex going on in my dream that goes like this, something keeps smashing my beliefs on Pan, the nature god of running around buck naked and having a head on collisions with other competitors, 'have the Martains groan yet', I say mercilessly, talking about mushrooms. Hey man, I have my own God complex cause prophecy is in my DNA and I whorship my own Six foot frame and I have golden strands that radiate across the forests, and worst, I think that I'm absolutely "above" the law of stupid bipeds, the circling ritual of dogs before they turn, the scientists realization that the galaxy is as violent as wars here on earth, the blissful knock of nature freeing the elves, little fractal elves. 'do you see my horns now', underneath the phenomenal foliage of mechanized clouds.