Expecting Mercy

I was sitting in the dugout next to a person I suspected of being an angel. There were others on the bench. Beyond us, there was an empty field, that is, void of bases and players, of grass or trees or even distance. Sitting on the bench,was it the sidelines? ~ to my left was a young girl. She stood suddenly, and faced me. I could see she was beautiful, with deep blue eyes and gleaming white blond hair. She was soft, and wore a summer dress with pleats. She took my hand and drooled a little spit into it. It was greenish with mucous. She put her small finger in it and stirred it round a bit on my palm. I gently removed my hand from hers, and said, ‘You shouldn’t do that, others might think it is not polite,’ wiping the spittle off with a portion of her dress.

‘How do you know right from wrong?’
‘You’re supposed to know in your heart.’
‘How come your daddy didn't?’

At this, the little girl reached for my throat as if to strangle me, and I pushed her away, so startled that I woke up. What was she telling me? I cringed a bit, in the bed sheets.





Last night’s bedtime notes:
“You must make a wholehearted choice of the divine will. You must obliterate the dead center of indecision.”

les essenes

i dreamed i was at my mother's house. we had guests, and there was a sort of banquet going on. it was night. there were all sorts of people. some family. i was looking out the window, hearing a noise like a rush of wings. a flock of birds had landed in the great tree just outside. i could make out their dark shapes against the night sky, like leaves, they filled the great tree. i was tinking about looking at them, and suddenly i was outside, floating about between the tree and the house. i saw that the birds were actually figures, shapes of men in the tree. in my mind, i was told they were essenes. i marvelled at them, dressed in rags, or skins. on the rooftop hundreds of candles had been lit, little tealights, flickering in the darkness. i felt wonder and anticipation and peacefulness, the way a child feels on christmas eve.

screwtape

so many dreams, so little time.

lately i have been besieged with cares, and i have lost a certain focus. this has rendered my dream recall less effective. i have snippets and fragments. memories of being in places, little ability to string the words together that were spoken, but words are spoken, and i listen.

last night, and this morning, i dreamed a few dreams, the last of which is fading fast, but i will put down the images.

familiar town, seeming to represent bloomington. been here before, in dreams.
alleyways and cafes that seem to be near or around 6th and 5th and washington or lincoln.
speaking with a professor friend in a cafe with others. he was ruminating on a topic of which we had asked him. i put a pot of coffee on for us all, but it ended up being served to others. he was talking about something to do with discerning good and evil, and then mentioned c.s. lewis, and the screwtape letters, a book i have never read.

we left, deciding to get coffee while we strolled.

before this, i was at a house, and it was something like thanksgiving, although it was not thanksgiving day. however, we were having an open house of sorts, and the reason was for thanksgiving, that is, a feast for the giving of thanks. my neighbours were there, michael and april, maybe their kids were around somewhere. i had the impression that the families of the others were around. michael and i were sitting by the fire in the living room, which had white sand instead of carpet. i had put on dark skin, and we were comparing our skin colours, like kids compare their tans. my skin was dark as michael's, although his skin was a shade lighter than usual. this may have been because of the nature and brightness of the light, which was a natural light, but wierdly bright in that it seemed to illuminate things from within themselves as well as from without. anyway,we thought my knees needed to be alittle bit darker if they were to match. we were laughing in an enjoyable way about this.

there was a halltree piled with coats, and i was aware that lots of my family were there. people were milling about and eating food. i got up to use the bathroom, and noticed the trash can in the bathroom was overflowing. i decided i should empty it before any other guests came in, but noticed that my dad's favourite beachtowel was wadded up on top. it was all worn and tattered, and it said coca cola, bearing the classic coke trademark. i figured he wouldn't mind, since he had passed away, and wouldn't be using it here anymore.

i passed down the hallway, and peeked into the master bedroom, where my mom and justice were asleep, sprawled out across a very large bed among some more coats. justice was about the size of a four year old, and barefoot.

i met my dad in the hallway, and he had put on a uniform that resembled a post man. he wore shorts and a mail man or bus driver type shirt, blue, that had a patch on the left breast that said "metro" and i kept thinking, metropolitan. i thought my dad had a job with some kind of angel city. judy and i think, the girls, kathy and cindy, and some others were getting into cars to go somewhere. my dad was going to drive them. we stood in the doorway, and he gave me a hug, i was sooo happy to see him, and we gave each other a little kiss, but the funny thing was, when we did so, both of us had peaches in our mouths, and we kind of tapped them, like a toast. the peach tasted fresh and juicy and sweet. i was thinking of the meaning of the peaches as i was dreaming, and the fruits of labour, and the angel city for whom my father apparently worked as a driver. my dad seemed contented and bemused by these things.

later i was back at the town part, with the group i had been at the cafe with. or maybe that was all after the house with the sandy hearth part. anyway, we were walking down a tight hallway, and talking about good and evil. evil is the word live spelled backward. in this hallway were two doors, very plain, very regular. we were following some sort of guide.

the one door, door number one, opened onto the good. the other, door number two, opened onto the evil. at the beginning of the hallway, or the entrance to the hallway, there was a little area with booths like one would find at a roadside restaurant. as we stood between the two doors, it was explained to us, about their nature. i was talking to a friend beside me, i think it was chris dickenson, (!), about having seen evil, and knowing that i had not even seen the worst of it, but that it was so reprehensible as to cause one to wish to flee from it always, when the door to the evil room opened, and someone came out, "excuse me" and brushed past us toward the little dining hall.

it was odd that no one came out of door number one, but people did come out of door number two. there might have been some information about this, but i do not now remember. i wondered about going forward and reverse, about progression and regression, about the word live and evil, in general.

we backed up, as there was no where to go but through one of the two doors, or back into the dining hall. we were in a place that was in between places. we could not go into door number one until we were done living in the physical world, where our bodies were. i seemed to understand that i was here in a dream, and not in any other capacity. it is like being inside a message or a map. anyway, we took a booth and sat down. soon, door number two opened again, and a few people came out with a rolling cart laden with tools. they were pushing it down the aisle between the two sides of the booths, right by us. i was sitting on the outside by the aisle, and i remember covering my face, and saying, "yuck, don't look" because i had glimpsed the cart's contents, and i knew they were instruments for the torture of souls. someone was talking about china.

then we were back outside on the street. i was pondering and questioning the sequences of events, and the meaning of the screwtape letters my friend the professor had mentioned. i was thinking thoughts that i do not remember now, but at the time i was marveling a little bit, at their clarity, even in my dream state. then, an owl flew across my vision, backward, and i turned to see it. it paused in the sky, looking at me, and the western sun, beginning to set, was shining upon it. i squinted to see it more clearly, was it really and owl? i thought of minerva.

it had big eyes in a golden shimmering head over light green wings that glistened like gossamer! they trailed silken crystal threads like long strands of hair or filaments from their tips, a good six feet beneath it! it was talking to me! i was straining to hear what it said..

then the wind rose, and it vanished and was replaced by a golden mask, filled with a living wind, and the face was speaking to me, in rhyme. it said something about them having to tell us, before actually coming, but that the heavenly host would be coming soon, and to prepare, and something about trying to hear the sound, or, if you wish to hear the sound, light a feather to the ground.

i was trying to decipher the words, the wind was a little noisy, and it was hard to hear them, but i knew that i heard every one of them, and i was picturing lighting a feather like a match and sticking it in the ground like a candle...

calamity

this dream was right before the cyclones devastated myanmar.
when i read about it the next day, i thought of the odds, that i would dream about a miniature twister in the front yard.

in the dream, i was getting rid of stuff, clutter, with janet. we were driving somewhere to get something, and she said " oh let's just stop now, on our way home." and i said, - no, i can't, i don't have any pants on. hehe. i was wearing in the dream what i had actually worn to bed, just underwear and a tank shirt. but i thought, hey, that's ok, i'll just wait in the car! and i told her so.

on the way back, we stopped at a red light. i noticed a house for sale on the corner, a very nice bungalo, well appointed and landscaped. i was curious because it was empty, and you could see through the windows. on had been left open, and these vultures were going inside! eew! they were walking around on the beautiful hardwood floors, leaving droppings and looking rather dumbly, in that clueless way some birds can have, and i remember thinking, " oh man, somebody's going to have a mess to clean up. " we drove on.

then when we were back i was getting things in order on the front porch. the house was a large brick double with a long shared porch on the front. at the other end of the porch, there was a nice big corner hearth fireplace, i liked it very much. it had a little brazier in the hearth where you could take out coals from the larger fire and keep them on top to cook with and to keep food warm. i thought this was brilliant. it pleased me much.

other things: i was aware that there was a garden bed behind the garage out back with dark rich compost. while i was out front, a twister appeared in the sky. it was small, a little funnel cloud that came out of the bigger clouds and down to the area where we were. or rather, it sort of downsized as it passed from the sky to the ground, moving across the street and toward the yard like a sprite. it stopped int hte front yard and looked kind of like a birdbath there.. it has a wide dish like top from which its funnel extended down like a stem or a pedestal. it was about the size of a birdbath. some neighbours were rushing over to eye it curiously, and i said " don't get too close! it looks small but it hides its power." indeed, it suddenly estended up like a slinky and became bigger than the house! it swiped them up in its tail like a fist, carrying them over the treetops and dumping them unceremoniously in the garden behind the garage!

i ran to the back to see if they were alright, calling to the rest to come and help. they were fine, b ut they had crushed much of the garden in their fall.

the garden had sprung up!!! everything that had been planted in the rich compost was already as tall as my knees! i marvelled. i noticed that it ;looked water-logged though, and gooshy. i gently pressed a pepper between my fingers and it oozed into mush, its stems somewhat gelatinoue!eew!

the others pulled at some of theplants and they came out easily of the soil, the roots well developed, but the soul so marshy and wet that they could not resist being challenged in that way, and were easily uprooted.i noticed then, that inthe soil were millions of tiny eggs, like grains of sand, and this broke my heart. i felt a grreat sadness in my chest as i saw that little worm caterpillars were hatching out of the eggs in the soil. it grossed me out. eew! i withdrew, and one had gotten on my thumb! eew! it stuck like an oozy slug! i flicked it off and there was another on, bigger, on the back porch! it was about six inches long, and like a cross between a worm and a slug. it grew quickly into a smal bracchiosaurus! a little dinosaur on the back porch!! it was about a foot long and tall, and it seemed mutated, as it had two necks atop each of which was an eye! three other eyes were on its body, in odd places, like one in its shoulder, one in its side, one on its back hip.. they were blinking and watching me.. eew! it did not seem especially malicious, but i kn ew it was dangerous, and hid its power.

i went to the front porch and saw my mom, and said eew!you wouldn't believe what i found! or something like that. she went to go look and i said, no! don't go back there!! it's not safe!

the little dinosaur had grown to the size of a large dog, and was coming up the driveway!! my mom stepped away and up onto the porch with me, and then a number of things happened: it was suddenly dusk, and night was falling fast. a vulture like the one i had seen earlier with coloured wings was swoopeing down from about the same region of sky that had spawned the twister, and was wrestling with a guy. i felt it was someone i knew, like a neighbour or friend. anyway, he and the big bird wrestled, and rolled around and about, finally wrestling up into the tree next door!~ i went for tools, and everybody had gathered in the driveway and was calling out encouragements to the guy, as he made his way down the tree and across the drive to us, with the bird.
i gave another guy, wierdly, tom cruise, a pair of pruning shears, and he gave them to the bird wrestler to cut the bird off of his hand, which had chomped upon it with his beak like a snapping turtle. i wondered whether the bird wrestler would have to cut off part of his hand, or if the bird could be cut off from his hand... no matter, he managed to snip the bird off his hand, and then he asked me for another tool, my lighter.

i had this lighter wand, like you use to light tall candles and fireplaces. i had four tools, altogether, a lighter wand, a pair of pruning shears, a pair of kitchen shears and a little saw. he began to burn the bird, which was flattened out now, like a piece of fabric and folded up in a plastic bag. but it was still the bird, and it was conscious and trapped in there, in the plastic. he applied the flame to the feathers by its jaw/beak. i said- " what are you doing!!!" he said "i'm burning it , just a little... it BIT me! "
i told him he could burn it no more than that, and he stopped.

wierd.

The Golden Man

Fitst of all, I awoke before dawn singing "For the Beauty of the Earth.." One momment I was asleep and aware of nothing, and the next I was awake, and filled withthis song. Only I was stumped on a verse, and so was making it up as it went along..

For the Beauty of each hour, for the Sun and for the Moon,
for the blossom of each flow'r, for the Ocean's tide and swoon,
Lord of All to Thee we raise
this our Hymn of grateful Praise.."

I Love this song, and have always sung it, since I was a child.

There is music in my head all of the time. Every day. There is always music.
I used to marvel when I was about twenty, as I could choose entire works and listen to them in my mind. I thought this was like pressing the play button on a tape machine. Nowadays, it is very much like an iPod with its files and files of music. I used to play a game with myself on the train from Brooklyn to Manhattan, and listen to albums in my head.

Some days, I play a game with the music in my head still. I just jot down all of the songs that pop in throughout the day. Alot of them are hymns. I always loved hymns. They comfort and assure me.

My husband came in and kissed me good-bye, he had an early srtat today. I went back to sleep.


Later, I awoke with vague running recollections like flashcards of a dream I was in.

Iwas looking out the window of a studio apartment and realised that I did not recognise the street below! I went to another window and looked out. This vantage point looked out over a hillside, which lowered in steps, like little terraces. On the first one I saw the shape of a large dinosaur down among the trees, which were a little taller than eye level, from where i was standing in my apartment, looking out the window. The sun was filtering through the leaves, and it was a very beautiful day. Soon I could make out the actual shape of the dinosaur, and saw that it was a sculpture made of pressed sheet metal that was stamped with a grid pattern like you see on those big silver tool boxes welded to the backs of Ford trucks! It was bronze coloured. As I looked more closely, I could see that its feet were actually wheel wells, and its horns on top were foglamps! Its snout was the front cab of a hollowed out truck! Then, to my amazement, a man came around and got into the driver's seat. He was wearing a hard hat, and he was completely gold! It was as though he were made of shimmering golden sand! He was like a moving particle sculpture! He started the truck and looked as though he was going to drive, but I had turned and run to the doorway!

I rushed to the hallway and down the stairs to the outside: it had changed again! I rounded the corner of the building, and it had changed again! I was now inside a convenience store/gas station! I went outside into the parking lot and looked out over the hill where I had seen the golden man. There were a number of men working there now, with shovels and rakes and wheelbarrows. They were landscaping tarraces.

I stood, dumbfounded. People were coming and going, and it was just like being at the Marathon station down any street. Then I was stricken with a kind of panic, and suddenly remembered that my baby had been napping upstairs! I raced around to the doorway I had come out of, and nearly ran into an Asian man holding two babies, and I touched their little backs, patted them as I went by. I then began to panic, because the door was already gone, and the side of the building had turned into a boarded up and graffiti'd warehouse, along which the street I had been standing beside had turned into an alley in a city that went under a raised train track.

I looked up at the windows, trying to recognise my little studio. Then I saw a series of images like looking at a roll of film negatives from a movie. It fastforwarded, leaving choppy impressions in my mind's eye, like the staggered speed of animation. Eventually it landed on a woman and a man asleep in a bed. She had a sort, modern haircut. It was all back in time, but it was monochromatic, in sepia tones.

Cubby

Again looking for space to work. Living in an apartment and wondering if my roomates would mind if Irearanged the furniture to accomodate an easel. Eyeing the walls for shelving space.
walking outside with Fred, down the sidewalk, Iremember saying, "We've gone too far- it's a few blocks back. " We were in some sort of chinatown full of slot machines on the sidewalks, everything gleaming with neon and adverts. In the slot machines were vegetables and food. People were gambling for different kinds of food. beautiful mushrooms, chickens, peppers. it was weird. Fred began to stand on my feet, making it hard to walk. I remember thinking " i am dreaming. i am dreaming..."
Then waking up.

Decided to build a platform in the closet of my office and put the bed in there, like a medieval bed, in the wall like a cupboard. I can store a few things underneath it, and make it cozy with big pillows to lean up against the wall and lounge; keep the curtain on the door. It will be a real cubby! Then I will have a few more feet of space in here..

Springtime

I dreamed that I was at my grandparents' house, as I have before. It strongly resembles the original structure next to the Masonic Lodge in Broad Ripple where my father grew up, but in dreams, it expands, and has secret stairways leading to many rooms, and a favourite secret spiral staircase to a lovely turret. There was some sort of banquet going on, with many guests roaming about the decidedly late-victorian settings. The furnishings were made of marble and carved wood in deep cherry hues, with lovely textiles of tapestry and heavy draperies, intricate wallpapers, leafy vine patterns woven into wool carpeting, all much like the actual characteristics of my grandparents' home.

There was much bustling, and I was to perform at seven o'clock with John Mellencamp and his band, outside in a bandshell on the premises. For some reason, I had to wait for Rob, who showed up late, and apologized for making me lose my job. It was ten after seven and I had been informed that my presence was no longer desired. I was unperturbed, however, and put a pair of John's gloves and a scarf into a ziplock bag, attaching it to the back bumper of a large flatbed truck with chairs on it that was to be part of a parade for his fans. Apparently, they were to be allowed to reach out and touch the ziplock which contained the gloves that once contained his hands. I remember that this niether impressed me nor bothered me. It was more like the way one feels when cutting the grass. It was just something that was to be done.

Then I went inside and up a hidden staircase to a room in which my father was lying in a bed, propped up on pillows, with the windows open and a fine breeze blowing through. My mother was there at the foot of the bed on a divan, relaxing with something, sewing? a book? A few others were there, but I only had eyes for my dad, so I could only see them peripherally. We were just hanging out, my dad and I, and talking. He was content, casually supping on a shallow dish of ruby red pomegranate seeds in a sweet jewel red sauce over a dark bread-like cake. He handed the dish to me, did I want a taste?- and I noticed the dish was piece from the English Porcelain given to Rob and I for our wedding. The bedcover was also red, a dusky rose red silk, and the walls were papered in a similar pinkish red brocade.
I thought of myself thinking of Persephone, and awoke.

lavender and violets

Last night, I dreamed I had an apartment in Chicago. It was a place I was excited about, as it was all my own, and I could use the whole thing as a private studio. I could set up work stations for writing and painting, and I longed to go there. The problem was of course, that it was so far away!

I was thinking this over, figuring the cost of gas to get there and back, and whether I could spend weekends there. This seemed feasible, as my family could get along without me quite easily, and I needed a few days at a time to concentrate. But, being in another state, it still seemed prohibitive. Apparently, I was thinking about this while riding up to Chicago in the back of a pick-up truck, in the pouring rain. This bothered me, so I hopped out, and headed back to square one. I think I had a blue rain poncho on.

The problem of trying to work in a space where others were also living, and the problem of thus feeling suffocated by proximity were at issue, as well as the lack of finances to extend an independent facility to myself. I found these issues slightly annoying, and pondered them disinterestedly. These were not things I could concentrate on, while thinking about the work that was calling me. I wondered at what point in life I had succumbed to the notion that I could not or did not have what I needed, and how it had escaped me, but I knew that I knew the answer.

The last thing I remember was rolling tobacco with dried lavender and violets, and looking at my hands.

Looking at one's hands while dreaming is a technique for developing a level of communication with the unconscious used in the practice of lucid dreaming.

Dinner Party

I've forgotten already, most of what i dreamed last night. I do remember the tail end of the last dream. I was at a dinner party outside among a number of gazebos on a lawn. There were lots of folks there. Winding through the tables and chairs was a little track, like the kind you see at the county fair. Upon the track was a little seven or eight car train, also like the kind you see at the fair, with no roof on top. Sweet. it was taking the guests for rides, and everyone was smiling and laughing, enjoying themselves. As it came by where I was sitting, I spied Geri Kay, whom I haven't seen in years. I looked intently at her, passing by, and whispered her name. The train slowed its rambling to a near stop, and I said her name again. She turned and smiled, and we leaned toward each other and embraced. Our eyes were wet with happy emotion, and a little sadness that so much time had gone by until now.

Tag

I was traveling in a city that is familiar to me in dreams. It is like a combination of cities, metropolitan areas laid out on a grid, and resembles New York city, but is larger, and somewhat like Boston and another city which consists of elements i have not witnessed in this life. It seems to be a hub of sorts, and I am typically there looking for friends. It is always a bit difficult to navigate. Anyway, I had arrived at a busy open intersection near an elevated train track. I was waiting for someone, but I was having trouble remembering who. Soon, I saw Gordon Trubey come around the far corner, under the tracks, and I felt much joy and a feeling like relief. He was beaming, wearing a hand knit serape with horizontal stripes in different hues of blue. I was aware that each stripe represented a specific sky. He wore aviator sunglasses with amber lenses. Light blue jeans. We strolled arms around each others' waists to a nearby shotgun apartment on the second floor of a St. Louis style brick building. We went in, and inside Tim Noe was waiting there for us, with a few others.

The floors and trim were all beautiful hardwood, and one wall was inset with mahogany lockers of different sizes, all with black wrought iron padlocks. Some were unlocked. I kept going to the window, which curved out in three large panels with a windowseat and lace curtains, looking out on the street below for someone I was waiting for. I wanted desperately to visit my son Matti, who was a toddler. The rest faded into a different scenario which I have only a sense of a few vague recollections of, but in which I was visiting and playing with Matti, who was laughing and running around playing a game of tag in which I was 'it' but had to 'sit' while he ran to and from my arms, tagging me over and over. He delighted in this, and I so loved to see him laughing and running, but each time he ran away, my heart ached inside my chest. I went back into sleep.

Two or three dreams later, I was full of anxiety about time. I had volunteered to join the army, and my notice had just come. It was 3:40 in the morning, and I was in a white basement with lots of stuff in it. I was trying to find my things, rummaging through baskets of clothing and worrying about a suitcase. My mother, Rob's mother, and the Reverend Jimmy Moore were there, chatting. I began to panic as it was suddenly 4:20, and I was supposed to be at the Army Base by 4:30! The thing I was most concerned about was underwear and shoes, as I figured I would be given a uniform at basic. I was trying to find boots that I could wear to church on Sundays. Finally, at 4:31, Jimmy Moore said he would drive me to the base.

I didn't mind going into the Army at all, and in fact, felt that it would be a relief to finally not have to worry about what to wear or where to go. I seemed to know exactly what I was supposed to do. Jimmy Moore was wearing tortoise shell "Buddy Holly" glasses, black trousers and a white shirt.

Girl Drummer

In and out of sleep, visiting a playground made of sand with a young boy I was apparently babysitting. Introducing him to my brother, the Colonel. He squatted down on one knee and extended his hand, saying "Hello Noah." Fast forward, inside a building, maybe a coffee shop . I reached to scratch an itch on my chin, felt a beard! Surprised, went to find a mirror. It was true, I had a beard on my jaws and chin. As I stroked it, I realized I was dreaming. Some of if was silken and blond, like very long peach fuzz, and the rest was coarse and grey, all of it about 3/4 of an inch long. Fell back into sleep.
Later, in an apartment that was my own, Dena Elsafar and Tim Moore brought me two little girls to take care of. I was still custodian of the boy, but he was off with Rob, getting the car. The girls were small and delicate, one wore diapers, the other pull-ups. They were sweet and had curly brown hair, lovely demeanors, tender and quiet. I loved them and wished they were my daughters.
Rob and the boy picked us up and we went to a department store with Rob's mom, Kaye. We entered through the furniture department entrance, where there was a living room setting with a lovely red couch. A band was playing in the corner, a little three-piece. Two boys seated amidst various keyboards and synthesizers, and a girl behind a keyboard and a drumset. The boys wore matching camouflage fleece feetie pajamas with Winnie the Pooh and Tigger faces (!) and the girl wore a t-shirt and jeans, glasses.
Kaye and Rob sat on the red couch with the boy, and I sat down on the floor and played with the little girls. The music was so beautiful, I thought I might cry. My heart was swollen and feathery in my chest, and the girl was singing this song in 6/8 time:

may your trembling always be bright
may your daytimes sparkle with light
private voices within you echo in the night
forgive them, big-mouth Will..

I wanted to stay asleep to hear the beautiful music, but I knew I was waking up.

I remained in bed for a while. Thinking about the song, memorizing the sound of it, the lyrics. letting my thoughts drift where they may. For some reason, the song "Baby Mine" from Walt Disney's Dumbo arose in my mind, and it sang in my heart to the little girls from the dream, and then to Rob.

come back, alice!

3.03.08

vague recollections of going to a church, it was filling up with people, and i was with my family- a husband and son- along with a couple others, maybe friends? relatives? we took up about half the pew. our coats were in a pile beside us, and more people were filing in. i picked up our coats to make room, and went to hang them. i remember walking down the side aisle with this bulky bundle of outerwear, thinking it was a bit unwieldy, past the other pews filling with people, and through a hallway, toward a large foyer, where there were coat racks with hangers. i noticed then that the pile of coats was actually half of a big layered wedding cake, but it was made of a combination of papers, like paper mache' and tissue. it was white with blue trim, and had some silver dangling sequins or flashing somethings that sparkled here and there at the edges of each tier. i remember thinking they moved like dangling earrings on a woman as she walks .

as i walked with it, i saw janet fox waiting for me, leaning on the glass case in a front-desk type of area. the foyer was quite spacious, with a very high, bright ceiling and seemed like a large white entryway to a museum. she was smiling, and it was clear we had planned to meet there. the paper cake i had been carrying was the Torah. inside it, all of space was infinite and empty. “ you need some help with that?” she said. i explained to her that it was, in fact, very light, since it was infinitely empty! but, yes, it was a little unwieldy. we giggled and she stepped to take a corner..

i wondered how i could be carrying infinite space , since that would suggest the impossible, as i would be outside of space, and one cannot be outside of the infinite, but then i realized it was because it was perfectly empty. it was about then that i knew i was dreaming, so i pondered this quickly, how i could be in a space that was filled with locations, carrying a space that was filled with emptiness.

i awoke and waited for an answer. the only thing that came to me, later, was from a drawing i had made on a card to meg and zeb. it poked out at me from a pile of papers on my desk. it’s a heart, made from a continuous line: at the bottom is a little loop, and at the top, in between the two matching lobes, is another. a mobius heart. the one lobe reflects the other.
to see infinity in a grain of sand indeed. what’s in that quantum foam?

the manifestation of being is truly, to my understanding, dependent on the void.