I dreamt of you (whom I can barely picture from some photos of your shelves you once posted), Karin, Neil Hertz, Laura and some others talking and walking in the Harvard library, then near the Charles river and then splitting up to go our ways on a cold night in Harvard yard; it was fifteen or so years ago; for some reason when I introduced you I called Neil something like Willis, and you by your previous lj-name (I think this is what made it a clear night, the star part); he had some book proposal that he was very pleased with and that he'd written fluidly, all very unlike him, and was about to send off to Hopkins; he was wearing a comfortable-looking but rakish fedora, also unlike him; and I think it was a dream about what Henry James calls "the possible other case," where Kerry won, we were all happy, and life was easy and transparent.
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