2006

pdt

sun
sep
17

It's an odd day of the month – I don't drive odd days.

"Dispatch," Mary said when I called in at 4:30 this morning.

"I dreamt someone leaped through the window of my taxi into the front seat," I began, "Really scary! – just like your dream of everyone dancing on the table."

"What does that mean?" Mary said.

"I don't know," I said into the telephone. (I only plug the thing in when I have to make a call out.) "It was spooky!"

"What does that mean about your coming in?" Mary said. (I love listening to her voice Sunday fortnight.)

"Well, I'm not coming in today," I said, "and I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."

"Okay."

I hung it up, unplugged it, and went back to sleep.

am
11:46

Then I had this (Dream) Mary and I have just been to the hardware store, and she has a tool box filled with at least a dozen items to carry along in her dark green car. I'm somewhat helpful, I guess, carefully removing all the tools, and cutting a hole in the bottom of the toolbox, just large enough for me to insert my balls and erection, right there at the bottom. Now, wait for her to reach for a wrench! (Fin)

(Dream) David Van Ness is sitting next to me, telling me the name of a certain kind of poetry in which you combine and break words up organically, across the page. I'm kind of surprised he's talking to me. There's a whole crew of us on some sort of field trip, and we go along two-by-two, in the same order we were sitting at the long table. The field trip has something to do with me, though I feel separated from it. I'm at one end of the line, with my partner, and Whitney is at the other end, with two partners. She has her nonchalance.

We reach the tree, and looking up, see one branch has been completely severed, though hasn't fallen, died, or become separated from its place in the canopy. We move on . . . probably just a matter of time. (Fin)

11:58

The first time I woke up after that, a whisper voice said, "//. /./ ./// ./ .// .//. /./ ../ Never stop ... // ./. //. /// ./. // ./. /. //" somehow spliced into a second whisper voice which said, "//. /. //./ /. .// /. /./ ./ ... You never know. // /./. //. /// ./ // .// /. //"

In my mind it appeared more like this: "//. /./ ././ /.. ./ .// ../ Never stop \.\ You never know. // ./ /./ .// .//. /./. //." It's hard to describe. I just know it was assembled from two distinct places in my mind, then spliced into one.

pm
12:23

Then just before I finally decided to get up, a whisper voice said, "//. /. /./. ./ .// //. /./. /./ ./ You'll never win. //. /././ //. //. /// ./ .// ./" and moments later, as I rested my left hand lightly on my genitals, and lightly wiggled my right index finger across the center of my chest, almost as if I was writing, something came in really fast, erased, or smudged out, the "You'll" in the memory trace of the whisper voice, and replaced it with "We'll."

I played the whisper voice from the top, and it said, "//. /. /// ./. ///. // /./ /. We'll never win. / /./ .// ./ //. //. /// /./ //. //"

Hmm. Maybe it's been writing in my mind, and not whisper voices at all.

Could be.

I think it's both.

12:30