Hey. How's it goin'?
Q: ...
Me? I'm fine.
Q: ...
No, none of that.
Q: ...
Well, of course. I mean, there was the one.
Q: ...
I was in a swimming pool, because it was a pool party, and I was standing in a ring of people. We were all handed golf balls. We all were told we had to somehow hit the floating target in the center of the pool. Most people immediately put their golfballs in their mouths. I chose to throw mine. It struck the floating target, which was wearing a little crown of tortilla chips with a die cast metal car hood down in the center of it.
Q: ...
I don't know. It was important for some reason. I could tell you about all the other dreams arranged with this one, but I find that paratactical dream relationships, when they are narratized, become just funny instead of easier to access. The alternative route is to organize the telling paratactically. Like, "I was in a hallway. I was in a swimming pool. Golf balls were coming out of people's mouths. A woman looked like Birdo. My locker combination was a series of smells. Dried blood. Cloves. Peppermint jelly. Marinara. And all the way back around to Cloves."
Q: ...
Sure. I can tell the same dream in a way that makes it unrecognizable. Just a matter of shifting your focus. Just like you can tell two different people about your day.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
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