I dreamt again last night. I can’t recall everything right now, but i was in a water world, life on little rafts floating on the water. The world was like a spent lotus head in reverse, contained in reverse again like it swam in the bottom of an old Coke bottle, looking down. There was something of adventure and unbound joy in the futurelessness that world held, riding the whitewater in our spots of life on that floating disk with the water lillies and the lotus pads and the swans(? yes, i think, swans.). Looking back i believe i saw TheSkinHorse and LifeInMotion coming up from behind on one of the disk’s sharp lefts.
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Visions of red red red again. There was blood in my mouth, and blood coming out of my mouth. I was vomitting blood like a proper wretch. Wonderful.
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I was staying in a hotel room with my father. He was playing one of his videogames. There was a pool in the hotel, which he didn’t want to use. Strange. There’s a lavish flash of color in my memory, dark wook and deep forest green velvet, plush paisley bedcovers and starched white sheets. A black refridgerator. There was regret masked in his eyes. I remember being in the parking garage with him, in a black SUV he doesn’t own, navigating out by going up somehow. I remember arguing with him that up couldn’t be out, because we were above ground. He said he knew better, and was too busy looking around a corner to make eye contact. We jumped laterally from one floor of the parking garage to a tunnel, I don’t know how. I also remember eating seafood, somewhere that had white plastic outdoor furniture. Maybe something red-checked under the plates. He seemed happy there. We ate shrimp and shot the shit.
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My metalsmithing teacher woke me up this morning at 8:45. She said she could “feel it coming, feel that rising pressure” and that she was proud of me. Oh right my graduation, right right. I invited her to come, she happily accepted and said she’d get back to me about it.
All so strange, so very strange. Especially with this strange illness. I think the lighter spirits are calling me back to the surface, telling me to recharge before the heavy end comes ’round again.
There’s some strange peace here. I can’t quite place it.
