(A dodgy slice of pizza from the most dodgy corner shop in the world, chewy cardboard, dark lighting, and yesterday I'm surprised, runny nose, sore throat, fever, feel like shit all the work-long day. I was fine the day before, all I can think is to blame the pizza, home from work, bed, sweating up a storm, the recollection of dreams...)
...That I'm somewhere on the East Coast, Philadelphia, say, driving around in the inner city hoods, old hotels, houses, I park my car, a newer model Volvo SUV or sports-wagon, and go to sleep on a sofa some hippies have left on their lawn...the next morning, getting up, I can't find my car, walking around the block, there's a wreckers, and I'm concernedly checking there, everywhere, ask the hippies when they come outside, nobody knows where my car is...
Everywhere the air of faded grandeur, of wealth gone to ruin and decay, inside an old hotel, high ceilings and gilt peeling from plaster, it's a precinct and I'm asking the police about my Volvo, where is it? And they find out that it's been towed, and I'm asking where to, and they're telling me someplace far away, how much? they don't know, outside it's dark and I can see the lights of the city twinkling...
The dream changes...
Now, at atmosphere of infinite melancholy, of a love affair gone terribly wrong, I'm half participant, half observer in this dream...
There are a couple of dark haired children, a boy and a girl, and there's somebody with me, I don't know who, female, and we're in the woods near an old house, looking for works by a famous American Folk Artist who worked with twigs and found objects, old boats, lumber, trees, we know him, have seen his works in museums, but here, everywhere we find only the places where he's cropped his inspiration from, twigs missing in the forest, the imprint of a boat, a log removed from the leaves, it's everywhere twilight and the dark haired children run away, laughing and playing, and I'm waking up, want to see how this works out, I don't understand, is the love story about them, or about the other and me? ....
(Wake up, the sheets are soaking, feel marginally better, long night...)