six minutes to write down whatever i can remember. a very dreamy night (oh and i slept like I just INVENTED sleep..mmmm) dreams within dreams. at the end, late for math class in which we were drawing a gianty floppy dog over and over in exact, decreasing increments. I thought, "I can't flunk. I can draw that floppy dog at whatever size he wants." and I proceeded to instruct other students in dog drawing and atmospheric perspective and I looked around I could see it everywhere. "Just TOUCH those trees there. Barely, barely." (and I could see the poplars in the distance, delicate as lace) and someone said, "but that's not always what you see." "Of course not, I said and walked into a tunnel that was fuzzy and indistinct at its opening and at the end, darker, infinitely specific, lined with little drawers full of old keys and little tiny instruments - a bugle I could barely pick up with my thumb. It was there I think I met ______ who was distracted from (poorly) kissing me because _______ was still on his mind. " ______" he said, "was strictly a criminal in her own beautiful Christian way." But she was/is so gorgeous. I didn't care. I didn't want him anymore and hadn't for a long, long time.
ohletssee. the rooms. the dream rooms. perfect little places to sleep with a tiny bed, tiny pillow, matching everything and the door that you opened on the opposite end to that EXACT same room. It was hard to choose, naturally, between them.
oh boy. out of time.
cut. print/
1 comment:
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs ... if it come to dream-analysis in the version of Alexander Pushkin "The Tale of the Dead Princess and the Seven Knights" ;-)
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