DREAM I:

This one I had to wait most of a day before recording, mainly because it WENT THROUGH ME LIKE VODKA. I now recall conveying this same phrase from Plath to Kresten and his mother shortly after having met him, as she drove us to a party with the Nicholsons for the first time. I must have even then sensed Kresten's vibe, one that he would have shared with Plath; the two of them were Scorpios. Even as I write this I all but tremble. I know that my grammar is on-point. Yet this was not the only time I was shut down for probing the mystical depths. Kresten's Capricorn Mother found me that time to be pretentious, or so [young] Kresten claimed. This was the beginning of the end, I guess, for my public image, and the START of my outspoken spiritual life.
Yet even now, years later, I prepare to read my texts again, scouring them madly for a trace of madness. Oh, well. At least for once my Dream Diary shall be again 'descriptive'.

The dream was overcast with Plutonian energy. The security of Cancer Life had gone. There was no buffer between me and the asylum; I would have to watch my tongue.
Much of the dream, I would SUPPOSE, occurred at Palomar College, but at night. This was a night unlike any waking night I've had in years. In dream, night-time is not a void; it takes on all the colour of a van Gogh painting. A sort of lucid, warm and dangerous violet hung upon the scene. I must have felt, under the mad green moon, no longer any need to worry. I was so divorced from Rationality that I could go about my mystik business. No one could persuade me I was crazy. So I knew I was NOT crazy; all the warrants I had come to treat as though I *NEEDED* THEM had proved to be no more than just a ruse to justify my self to false and myopic authorities.
It was but father's program, asking all ways: What's the POINT?
and Mother's childish notions that life must 'make sense'.
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'This house is haunted.
It's so pathetic.
It makes no SENSE at all.'
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So Reason was no God, but just an Idol. The Imagination was unbridled. I did not NEED then to make sense. But to accomodate pre-
tense.

Yet with that was issuing.
I but needed to say:
I know what I'm doing.
Now get out of my way.
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The events seemed too fluid to stick out in memory. No warnings seemed to loom. No complexes, no complications.
May be I saw some one from Tony's dream. No. Not Zane. But the other Cancer guy. Who knows. Like I said:
Cancer mainly disappeared.
The night was owned by Scorpio.

Dm.A.A.