sleeping with a mouthful

"The man who thought he had perished
dreams thus about himself:
I keep feeling
as if I had gotten home."

- Song of Qaqatcguk
Tlingit
songs from the northwest coast



the other day, wandering in the rain, i discovered a used and out of print bookstore that had just opened. this made me very happy. a stout old man with big, thick square glasses sat at a little desk and seemed confused when i addressed him with enthusiasm. a nest of ashy hair in his ears and hair white like sea-surf, i left him to his devices and wandered through the scant collection of books tucked on shelves that looked like they had been rescued from a thrift store or garage sale. always curious to read salmon rushdie, and a recent recommendation by a friend lodged in my subconscious, i was drawn to "the enchantress of florence" on display. I randomly turned the book open whereupon my eyes immediately caught this sentence,

"He returned to the House of Mars where the ruffiana Giulietta grudgingly agreed to let him have unrestricted access to the memory palace, because she, too, hoped he could wake that somnambulant lady up, so that she could start acting like a proper courtesan instead of a talking statue."

With emphasis on such somnambulation, it did seem a rather synchronicitous advertisement for purchase. the four dollar price tag also made for an easy seduction. and with the old man finally warmed to my presence, brought to full attention from his slumber as a bibliophiliac gatekeeper now suddenly made to concentrate on his neat little cursive script in the notepad, his owlish bushed eyebrows levitating ever so slightly and his nose crinkling perhaps from microbial bits of dust from slightly flapped pages, or perhaps in order to portion his thick-rimmed vision over the edge of his nose, he remarked, "hmmm. rushdie." a hmmm that sent me wandering back out into the rain with a tacit gust of approval. my suspicions were confirmed later, immediately enjoying the tale made to tantalize. it wasn't long before i came across another testimonial of we, the observer's dreams...

"As soon as he fell asleep half the world started babbling in his brain, telling wondrous travelers' tales. In this half-discovered world every day brought news of fresh enchantments. The visionary, revelatory dream-poetry of the quotidian had not yet been crushed by blinkered, prosy fact. Himself a teller of tales, he had been driven out of his door by stories of wonder, and by one in particular, a story which could make his fortune or else cost him his life."

I wonder sometimes how much we tell our dreams, or whether it is them who tell us.



My dream that afternoon:
n what seemed to be an open air church...rows of pews...a performance going on but just a few of us there...Lee was asking to bum a cigarette....the song being played was an eerie cover or rework- i wish i could remember the song but i commented on it and was dancing...i looked up at this very dark-skinned man in a suit- seemed like he was on some security detail- i looked him in the eyes dancing and he would not crack his stone cold expression...i told Lee i was off for a bit and wondered if i should say goodbye and give him a hug now or see him later as i was going to be embarking on some long trip the next day...then i was in the back row pew sitting next to an old high school friend Erin Dooner. the paparazzi was outside waiting for her or someone else i knew because they were a famous pop star singer and part of me wanted to be photographed in her entourage slightly mysterious and disguised like with my hoodie pulled over or sunglasses. but i left alone with no fanfare and wanted to find the perfect cookie which i knew could be found at some bar in austin(later upon waking i realized the bar i had in mind was actually from a previous dream last year and does not to my knowledge exist in the waking world)- i would just have to cut through the davis arboretum to get there...then i was getting indecisive about trying to plan the rest of the night before my big journey...i went to go scoop my friend Traci for the night's festivities...she lived underwater...i went to her house and she opened the door and i made some comment about the house being underwater and she looked very serious and just responded "glug glug" but then i realized she was being sarcastic and joking so i responded "bubble bubble glug blaub blaub" and she smiled and invited me inside. her mom was taking a shower. they were living together now. next i was having to escape for some reason and had climbed out of the third story window of the house...it was no longer underwater and now downstairs i heard an older gentleman and someone arguing...i got the feeling he was a professor and the other voice started as a woman or girl but soon turned into a young boy's. for some reason my pants and shoes were off and i knew i had to escape undetected...but it became clear in overhearing this argument that this professor was in some sort of love affair with this younger boy and i felt very uncomfortable. the boy came to the window and i tried to lay flat in the darkness but he saw me and opened the window and i told him "shhh don't say anything and i won't tell your secret" and then i scurried off and i think the boy was trying to follow me...there was an escape ladder built on the side of the house which i wrapped my pants around and slid down super fast then ran off into the dimly lit trees trying to get my pants back on though i was interrupted by an asian transvestite asking me directions...