Dream Journal Eighty-eight.

       The memories are hazy.

The dream was anxious, confused and possibly tragic. It was set predominantly in a familiar structure: A fortified shopping mall that was part theatre. This must have been the place I rescued the Maiden. Parts of it were new. A sterility pervaded passages that had a sterile demeanour like the corridors of labs in the University of Maryland[, where mother and father would take me as a child, because they worked there.].*

 

The events followed a new plot in a familiar location. Parts of it were on campus. A kind of game was ongoing betwixt myself and the other members of a kind of fraternity. This game was played with a kind of total, nihilistic cynicism as apart from Joy as the ash is apart from the Flame.

 

* Notes for Jennifer.

The modest mouse record appeared again. I listened to about three songs on it. One was notably funky and gregarious.

 

The record was known to several others. Most of them must have been from the fraternity/sorority.

 

The outcome of the game probably determined the fate of the record. Negotiations were being made for it. The ownership of the record would be determined by at least one and probably both of these factors.

 

I rode the train on a novel and tormented, tiring trip to an old, familiar place. Part of it was in Palomar. Yet I visited it for about an entire school year. The dream followed my visits. There were long stretches of daytime passing through a fictional San Marcos by Sprinter. San Marcos was a desert interrupted by periodical Oases and fortified cities.

 

dm.A.