i got a horrible sudden fever – smoked two cigarets the other nite and sore throat in the mornin. the next mornin was my friend’s wedding and i handled it alright. the energy was hi, but by midnite i felt like dyin. achy messd up chills. my friend from boston blames herself – says “evry time i come to town, you get sick!”
got to bed around two, and tho it’s crazy hot in nyc i pulld out all the blankets and wrappd myself like a cocoon. no cool drafts, no head out, after a few midnite get-ups, i drank a bunch of water and then the vivid-yet-abstract eternity dreams came, and the sweat broke
i was in a void, an endless black space, on a grand spiral lens. rocks and famly members – it was all about pickin the right ones, and tyin them together right. the “normal” ways are no good, nothin is working. i get one lens set up and when i reach the next, i find they are out of sync with each other. for hours of real time and years in the dream, i workd to find an answer or a cure.
these are only impressions, there are no words or even pictures for the place i was and none of this is accurate. but it’s the closest i can get, and i recall a sudden epiphany, an enlightenment of sweat and problem-solving, where it all lined up and made sense. i understood the past and problem, i understood the people, i could feel my throat as soft as bone and knew i was moving downhill, that i could sleep in and wake happy and healthy, tho weak and exhausted for not eating in some 36 hours. (i had many liquids. it was not just a puzzle, but a battle, like defeating orouboros to steal his crystal eye!
SO, epilogue: now free to have normal, linear dreams i dream Rachel and i arrive to play a show in southern california, but it’s really more like ghetto midwest. the sky is a heavy gray and the buildings are squat beige brick, the people in puffy black coats and smileless. i walk into the sporting goods store where we are sposta play, and it’s like the place to be, evryone hangs out there tho i can’t understand why. the most drab depressing browns evrywhere and what do they call that fake wood-paneling wall stuff from the 70s? baseball bats, and two cops ask what i’m up to – i’m not gonna play a show right? oh no sir, just… who knows what! then two drunk girls approach and i try to pass but one stumbles into me, grabs and pulls me down to the floor with her. she says “well aint you the most prostitutin muthafucka in these parts?” like some sort of come-on (at best) or legal deal-sealer (at seediest). ”no maam i’m really not but thanks all the same” and i litrally dust myself off and walk on outta there.