Friday, April 5, 2013

Dream Collage

I'm on an Indian Reservation, in a large hall or rec room.  I'm sitting on the floor against the wall with a young woman to my right.  We are among the general hubbub of children playing and chasing each other, and older people sitting at tables conversing.  She is Native American and slightly resembles Marilyn Whirlwind more in affect than in appearance.  I am white, yet somehow I'm part of the tribe, and I'm learning and following their customs.

It was arranged that the woman and I would marry.  She tosses a blue, wooden, heart-shaped ball onto the floor in front of us.  As I reach to pick it up, she says "Oh, don't pick it up."  But I do, anyway.  "Now you have to marry me," she says.  I'm not attracted to her, but I've decided to commit to the marriage to appease the elders.


I'm driving southbound on the main drag in my old neighborhood.  I've just moved here.  It's the start of a new, single life for me.  I pass by the street my boyhood house was on.  All the store fronts are different.  So even though it's an old place, it's also a new place.  There are many clean, respectable-looking bars.  I'm looking forward to checking out these places.


I'm in my apartment, near the front door, which is open.  I have a view of the street.  But the door closes slowly on its own.  And I see through gaps in the blinds and through the small window in the door that the UPS truck drove up and parked in front.  My delivery is here.

My pants are open, so I hurry to try to close them before the driver gets to the door.  The driver enters and brings the shipment inside.  It's a collection of different-sized blue semi-precious polished gemstones formed into various shapes.  One that catches my attention is about the size and shape of a baseball, except that it has a face with a carving in it.  There are rod-shaped ones, too.

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