they seem to be hanging in the cedar

[click image]


And maybe nudging back into the redwood that's doing the best job of coming back from my neighbor's barbarity. They have not been perching on my sideview mirror lately, so my space age go cart doesn't have owl poop streamed all down one side of it lately either... but still to damned many spiders using it.

A nap took me earlier today, and I was dreaming of lame attempts at affable exchanges with people engaged in commerce... trying to give an impression of not being disgusted by it. This reminded me that I had a vivid dream about 86 some days back. He was in a house and doing art, beautiful, beautiful stuff.

I praised him and this pleased him greatly. He wrote me a poem and I started to ask a question about it and he just ran off. He came back and started giving me a tour. The house had a huge meeting room that had been dug down into the ground next to it so that the whole place seemed to be one story but the meeting room had grandstands at least two stories tall.

I thought this is not the place where he was speaking in my vision of nearly thirty years ago, not the place where he was riveting environmentalists and bringing them to a standing ovation... but a place where he could give speeches for sure.

His mother lived there, but was out somewhere. Soon it became apparent that a very lot of people lived there. All dreadlocked kids in full bliss ninny mode up to about age twenty-two or so, but mostly 86 and I were alone together, until I opened my mouth to make a comment on a sculpture and he just vanished... like anything less than immediate and full-throated 100% approval was punished by a disappearing act.

I got tired of waiting for him to come back and make more pretty art, and started milling around on my own to look for him or to catch his mother whenever she would return. Plenty of brainless exchanges with acolyte kids and a hot tub. Then his mother came swooping in wearing a solid gold skull cap — smooth, sculpted to her head, sort of like a swim cap with side burns — and a flowing white sort of cross between a jumpsuit and a robe.

She looked like something out of Flash Gordon, and just frowned and waved me off when I asked her about 86. He was due to give some sort of inspirational lecture to his followers. I could see them gathering in the lecture hall through the window that divided it from the rest of the house.

I just sort of said, "Fuck this," to myself and decided to wake up.

It was so vivid and he was so acutely tuned for only pure adulation that I thought maybe he's died and this is his spirit coming to have its final say with me, like when my dad died, but other than googling for a sign, I guess if he wants to get my attention he'll have to come back.

pipe up any time....