11 August, 2021

Strange, troubling dream last night. I was wandering in a foreign landscape, aimlessly wandering. I was jabbering away in an unintelligible speech, a colloquy I was holding with myself and knew not even the gist of, for how could I? The words landed on deaf ears, my deaf ears, or the interlocuter's. It was not even my voice. For all I knew it could have been ojibwemowin. I reached a destination pointed out to me by a man with an exaggerated gesture in that direction. I wound up in a building like a hotel through the parking garage entrance. I darted by a man, as if I was a fish in an aquarium passing a fellow inmate, and so only got a glimpse of him, vaguely Filipino. There was an elevator and a long curving corridor, like the streets of Sacramento. I had been in this corridor before, in another dream. I got on the elevator fully knowing that I would not get anywhere. A man, an actor in Hollywood, whose name I have forgotten, was on the elevator. We got off it and I followed him through a dark lobby and headed towards the back. I gazed at his back, and then I woke up.

Dreams are like the pale cabbage butterflies flying against the windshield as I drove through the desert of southern California on the way to Phoenix, hundreds of them. On impact they disintegrated against the glass, leaving their chitinous ichor.