throw your dreams into space like a kite
Anaïs Nin & i gadded about a hotel room in our robes. she donned some gray silky lingerie & wanted me to do the same & to expose ourselves through the grand window onto some quiet tree-filled neighborhood, but i couldn't find any lingerie to put on. she disappeared & hundreds upon hundreds of people dressed as if for a red carpet descended upon the hotel. Charlie Sheen drunkenly barged in & announced that people of color who think they have problems ought to watch white people get heart attacks on TV. half of the crowd agreed & left the scene with him, some of them couples who had a smiling face for the event but turned around showing their disdain. a man leading a Boy Scout Troop said he could help me socialize better by taking walks in the park with his troop, but i was more worried about people looking under my skirt. i wandered away & got lost in the crowd.
when i read all eleven diaries of Anaïs Nin (including her younger diaries & some of her expurgated stuff), i had dreams of discovering more of Nin's works in big pink volumes in a library that recurred in my dreams. i don't even like her writing all that much, but much the way Edward Gorey felt about Henry James, i felt compelled to read all of her works.