The Dreams
These are the Dreams of others.
They vary on all scales between all extremes.
Shared, they become something that reveals their true size.
I plan to record my own dreams here regularly. I hope you'll join me.
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by long ago (5/31/2002 ) |
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Previous
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Next
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 They were waiting for me in the place that I had agreed to meet them, in the place that I could not avoid.
I could not avoid them. I had agreed to this. I would forget it again.
They were even-summed, a rootless spatter of languages, a superset of non-existent colors and assumed names. With an exertion of fractions, they crafted landscapes on the backs of beetles, dug canals, lifted armies. They were schoolgirls, wolf’s tongue, kettle, yarn.
I went to the center of the world, clean circles entwined, joy and agony nothingness, infinite rooms, beasts and men. And the freedom came then, engulfed in raw perspective; in sensual, bodiless, consequence; in all enfolding reaction; in one shiver of purity.
I left my reflection. I waited for it where it had agreed to meet me. It could not avoid me. We had agreed to this.
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