Monday, June 21, 2010
Last night I dreamed that someone was killing poets and dismembering them, including myself but also not myself since I was obviously watching it happen. I knew who it was, but was afraid to say. We kept hiding the bodies. Someone had plans to fix things apparently, to put us back together alive so no one was the wiser. In the meantime, everyone's various parts were thrown into a swimming pool which happened to be in my childhood bedroom. We were all swimming around on top of the water, fully aware and freaked out that our bodily, physical selves were sunk in pieces somewhere down in the murky depths. I had agreed to take care of the pool overnight, and to sleep, waterbed-like, on top of the water to keep us safe, which I did until I could feel the body parts beginning to decay, almost sighing as the air left them, and rising, arms and legs and torsos beneath me through the plastic sheeting I was laying on. Everyone was arguing in the hallway over what to do as the pieces, bleached from the water and bloated, began to surface, hands and heads and open mouths. It became terrifying at that point. I kept throwing sheets over the pool to cover them, but you could still make out the outlines. Needless to say, I woke up a little unsettled.