Notes after dreaming. Notes after dreaming.

1. We won. We lost. How do I describe it? A large moth (or a small bird) drops down from on high. Bringing and-or taking bits of information that were points of light.

2. Wide window. The sky was full of stars. “Will you get me some cigarettes?” Someone says. “A gang of thugs is in the building.” The apartment looks out onto a small park. Beautiful but ominous buildings, they were. The gang is somewhere, laughing from an unknown location above me. I never went back. Raining. The road out of town was heavy with traffic. I was in a red Firebird, similar to a friend’s. The car has a sinister association. Chaotic event. Then, running through standing water.
3. A friend was appointed to the Supreme Court. He was emaciated and sick, and wouldn’t talk, looking away when I approached. College campus. Springtime frost. Everyone is singing. Waiting forever to see him. Was snubbed again in front of Carol Burnett. So I cut class, crying.
4. My childhood friends have gone insane. Nothing is, as it seems, of course. We are all at various stages of our development from my remembrance of them. A girl I always remember knowing grimaced and screamed, her contorting third grade countenance barely recognizable.

Continue to walk; keep looking around.