two odd dreams in three hours.
7 a.m.:
took 2 really small books to a village bookstore to get them autographed by the lady author. we liked both of them. at the bookstore i mistakenly barbequed her 1st book and it turned into a hamburger. i was going to have her autograph the hamburger, but realized i’d eat it after and would lose her signature. while standing in line, i looked down and saw i was voluntarily naked – thought it would be rude confronting her with my genitalia while asking her to sign the second book. went around trying on the pants the mall had used to decorate their walls, but they were all either too small or the denim was rotting. kathy said she had an idea, so i grilled some chicken for a second sandwich. i was worried the grilled meat was too small, but when i put it on the bread it grew into a bath towel sized piece of chicken. i tore it in half and put the rest back, hoping no one would notice i’d touched it. before i could eat, kathy came back with a bright red pair of bull fighter pants with gold embroidery that fit me. i awoke. never got to eat a bite of either sandwich.
5 a.m.:
was in hospital to get my right elbow drilled. doctor had a mustache much bigger than his face. i was his last operation ever because he had been promoted to run the hospital. there were balloons and confetti streamers all over. he was a good guy and everyone was happy. my wedding ring was on my right hand. i kept floating away, so he taped my right ring finger to a post. my floating broke the tape. floated all over the hospital an inch above the floors. doc came back with a power drill that had a 3 foot bit to drill my elbow. i became concerned about the approaching pain and hoped they would knock me out first. woke up on a cold floor in darkness, confused. sat up. nurses came and screamed at me to lie back down. refused. they said if i didn’t, i’d hurt somebody. told them i was just sitting here, doing no damage. they screamed i shouldn’t even be awake, the drugs should have kept me out. called me a drug sump. said they didn’t want to have to do this but were going to give me a powerful para drug to put me back out. i was looking forward to that when i awoke.
my dream life is more interesting than my waking life. i say that because i’m out of focus now. creatively lazy. this wandering the earth is magic, but requires continuous effort, refocusing, re-commitment. i’m a lazy soul. in 3 weeks i’ll have 61 years of my life sentence served. i’ve created tons of art, written gobs of poetry, created 2,600 pages of cultural website, published 21 issues of artcrimes, helped blog 40 megabytes over the past 9 months, more or less come to terms with who and what i am – and am not. on one level, i feel i’ve done enough. yet this new relationship with kathy – and this world wide wandering journey with kathy – shows me you’re never done with any of it… you daily have to work on yourself – recreate your self, your art, your heart, your soul, your goal. i think i’m tired of me. not tired of kathy, though. she fascinates me – her art, her poetry, her constant effort to better her entire inner and outer being, her list of goals, things to do. for her sake i’ve got to be better than i am – got to keep working on the next version of smith, my next release, my next better me. ain’t got no options – can’t kill her for the insurance money cuz she’s not insured. plus, she’s the only reason i’m sticking around.
