I copied from my life. Little shadows of it skittered rushing over my dream; the mood of the day saturated its distortions, its shadows and its bogeymen, allowing me to see what I could have understood no other way. It was if I was dreaming secrets I had hidden from myself, details to be known and swallowed at once, like the cyphers of a spy. I had at last outwitted the part of me that wanted everything to count, everything I did to prove something about me I had not yet managed to prove.
SAKE, it said across the dark wooden headboard of the waterbed like some headline proclaiming THIS IS CEREBRAL. THIS IS OF CONSIDERABLE IMPORTANCE. My neighbor invited me over we reclined lazily in the bed over cups of steaming coffee brewed and cut with cream. She talked of being and having daughters; one clambered onto my lap where I poked and tickled her in the ribs laughing along together with little giggles. A gigantic man weathered from labor Lorri's husband arrived home, showered then began to dress in a black skirt, black nylons and three inch heels, while the daughter read aloud from a children's book, she called, I think Horace and Morris but Mostly. Doug curled tape back upon itself to reattach the sole of the shoe back under his toes I thought many times why didn't he remove the shoe to fix it, a man would certainly do that. Then realized that even though he's dressed as a woman he can be a man, just the way I know I am still sexual even if I have not had a lover for many months. Gary trailed lankily into the room as Doug hopped about on the one foot fixing the shoe on the other. Rising I said how lucky I was to see him today an old friend I hadn't seen in ages. Gingerly hugging him aware of the hot coffee, motionless muscles under his shirt unmoved as I felt with a familiar touch under my fingertips on his back, obligatory, flat and half hearted he barely returned the hug.
The girl had become tired, swaddled lightly in a sheet I laid her to sleep, she was so good in school. Ants crawled over the sheet and I wrapped her in a fresh one. When I returned to the room it was apocalyptically hot and they were gone.
Gone to a party at Petra's-- there were parties there every weekend -- where the music was thrillingly loud, and we all knew everyone, and these were all people I admired, all the people who loved the same things. It was dark and smelled of cold beer and hot summer and nearly everyone was dancing.
It's this mood I want to convey to you gentle readers imbued with the particular events, the furniture even the characters--were embodiments of the mood. It was the mood that had overshadowed my day; the mood I did not understand which remained compelling. A place once visited and then vanished, the taste and mood I would recreate and apprehend. Like a hand that will not let go of me, like clothes I could not pull off, what feels coherent from the inside, from the outside often makes no sense. There it is right here in the dream and it felt so clear the dreamer blushed.
I hoped to finish the dream before my throat closed up. I understood they were gone. I nodded this makes sense laughed between pride and despair. Sake was not the name of Japanese wine it was the purpose, the end.
Unfocused and handsome the man approached asking if I would dee jay for him. I warned him in clear balanced sentences that I was soft spoken. They had voice modulators he assured then returned to mowing night dewey grass while wheeling and dealing new businesses over the phone. It was pleasant not knowing what the new job would amount to. He applauded politely when I accepted. The dream was a certain mood, I followed that mood, and let the shape of the dream flow from that. Abandonment hauled up and smashed me flat again with its hard truth.