when we move through life like it is
smoke and glass and water
- anything but free air, fresh air, pure air -
and pick up scattered pieces of each other
and never wonder
about how we broke apart
instead always simply pressing them together
to make shapes
- round peg, square hole; sound familliar? -
that are assymetrical and while aesthetically pleasing
(in that subjective way gestalt loves)
we completely miss the point of it all.
at least in my opinion
which matters about as much as the dust
from the back of a wing
on a butterfly
who is heaving through summer
and tentatively sipping dew from a morning glory
because one drop on her leg will weigh her down enough
to prevent flight.

warm beer and cold women

i woke up to find the city caked in several feet of solid ice. if our door had opened outwards we wouldn't have been able to leave. people were wandering around outside, confused. it was like a great glacier had come in the night. the only thing that really sucked about it was that we had no power or heat. so we were trying to figure out how to keep warm in the new ice age. leon went into the basement to bust out his coleman propane stove and i started to mix up some pancakes. the kids put on their boots and went whooping outside to slide around. they could play all they wanted, anywhere, because the ice was too thick and deep for cars to get around. as i was cooking, a knock came on the door and a beautiful woman asked to take refuge in our home, since there was no way for her to get to her house in the city. i said of course and took her in, but by that evening i could see i made a terrible mistake, because she was flirting with and fawning all over leon, who was so dopey about it, it infuriated me. she started pulling some attitude on me, as though she really believed that she could usurp my position of 'head woman' in this household, so i literally picked her up and threw her out the front door, chucking a cold pancake after her. she slid a long ways on all that ice. when i told leon this dream as we both woke up a little while ago, he said, "she'll go far." heh.

the chains of babylon

last night i dreamed that i was part of angel's detective agency. yes, that angel. we were confronted with a large scary demon who demanded vegan cupcakes, or she/he/it would devour the world. 1500 of them. presented to him/her/it in less than 72 hours. of course the entire team looked to me to help soothe the savage beast with goodies, and of course i was certainly up for the challenge. it was nice to have angel relying on me. i could see in his eyes that if i saved the world he'd worship at my feet, and possibly cover my body in sweet, sweet "good vampyre" kisses. i started baking right away, chocolate cupcakes, and that was when i figured out this was an anxiety dream. when the first batch came out of the oven they were horribly unleavened looking, gummy, and entirely unappetizing. i put in a second batch, but when i opened up the oven to take them out, the cupcake tins were gone and all that were left were three ENORMOUS cupcakes that had not cooked properly...burned all to hell on the outside, lopsided, with giant collapsed-in tops and holes in the center. angel was so disappointed. i decided that "good vampyre" kisses maybe weren't so hot after all and told him and the gang to make their own fuckin vegan cupcakes, because i was going out to enjoy my last 72 hours on earth, not spend it in an ill-equipped kitchen with a bunch of pretty boys and girls hovering nervously over me. they begged me to stay but i told them to "talk to the hand" and walked out.

infidel

i keep having these intensely sexy dreams about a boy i'm friends with. i've had three in the last week. they always go the same way: hot and heavy make out session, then guilt makes us stop before any sex actually happens. but each one gets progressively closer to intercourse. last night we both got nekkid. i always wake up with flushed cheeks and "oh no, it's not what it looks like!" on my lips. it's strange because i normally don't feel guilty over sex dreams i have that involve people other than leon. but this one is getting to me. i feel all dirty and bad but don't really want them to stop. and no, i won't tell you who they are about.

leon and i were sitting underneath a dripping cedar tree, at night, in the pouring rain. it was completely dark and all i could hear was water falling from the sky and leon's voice.

"like this!" he said, throwing a punch into the air at a slightly upwards angle.

"like this?" i asked, trying to imitate him and failing.

"no. you've gotta do it harder, faster, almost like a flicker. i'm slowing it down some so you can see before my hand vanishes."

at this point i realize he isn't just showing me karate punches.

"vanishes?"

"yeah. when you punch through the fabric of this reality."

"what?"

"you can do it. i can do it. i'm trying to show you. it makes a weird noise. and you'll get your hand back. it's just the first step in going into the next dimension."

"okay...."

"like this!" he said again, loudly, punching into the air.

i summoned up my arm strength and punched as hard as i could at the angle he was showing me. still nothing.

"you've gotta get the flick and you've gotta get the angle just right. you are trying to move your hand in four dee, not three dee. get it?"

something about how he phrased it made me understand. i took a last look into his darkened eyes and flipped my head so my sopping wet hair flew out of my face and back. "okay," i said, determined. i drew my arm back, fist upturned, elbow close to my body, and punched the air. at the apex of my thrust, there was a little, barely discernable blip noise, and my hand and the first half of my forearm vanished. that part of my body felt weird and hummy and warm and tingling.

"YOU DID IT!" he shouted, "YOU DID IT!" and then he copied me, and his own arm vanished with the same blipping noise. he looked straight at me and said, "now, are you ready? we're part way there. we're going to go through. we can always come back. are you ready? i'll be with you."

i panicked a little. "what if we end up in different spots?! what is it like there?"

"we won't, and i can't describe it. but reach your hand around and you'll feel mine. we'll be in the same spot. i promise. we'll even hold hands." i did as he said, wiggled my absent hand and arm around, and indeed, i could feel his own warm palm and wiggling digits there.

"reality is the greatest, most persistant illusion. let's see what's really there," he grinned at me. i held my breath, dreading and hoping. and then i woke up.

i was living in this commune-type place, and jimmy fallon had the attic apartment. i kept seeing him around but was too shy to talk to him. finally one day the ladder that connected his apartment with the ground floor, where i was staying, fell just as he was about to come down. i helped set it back up and we started talking. he invited me up to his place later for some chips and soda. i was very excited, because, you know, he's hot and everything. anyway he comes back after doing something in the fields and i go up to his apartment with him. the roof is all windows and he has hardly any furniture. there is a bag of cheezies on the little table and he says to go ahead and have some. i'm embarrassed to tell him i don't eat cheezies. luckily i don't have to because as he reaches for the bag he recoils in horror. there is a little tear in the seal of the bag and THOUSANDS of flies are hatching out of it, turning from little maggots into winged beasts and filling up his apartment. we are both grossed out and he starts apologizing over and over. i say it's not a big deal and in fact it's kind of interesting to watch all these insects going through their life cycle. suddenly i notice that dozens of the flies have started mating inside the bag. i point this out to jimmy who is fascinated. we come in closer for a better look and one of the mating flies looks up at us very pointedly as it is humping another fly, gets pissed off, and presses the seal shut so that we can no longer see him having sex with his girlfriend. the cheezie bag is crinkling and moving back and forth very rhythmically and this strikes both jimmy and i as frikkin hilarious. we are laughing and laughing so hard tears are coming out of my eyes. i woke up because an actual guffaw escaped from my mouth as i was sleeping.

i dreamed that society as we know it was collapsing. it was announced on co-op radio. "gather your things, gather some food, go to the woods," they said. we were happy we'd just gassed up the car the day before. we were happy that leon wouldn't have to go back to work. the kids were excited about camping. we gathered our tent, our propane stove, our candle lanterns. it took me ages to put all the food together, leon was getting frustrated with how long it was taking me, "hurry up, if we don't hurry, traffic will be awful." i opened the freezer and was very impressed to see it was fully stocked with all kinds of camping-friendly foods. for some reason we didn't think that the collapse of society would last more than a week or two, that we'd be able to come home and start fresh. we called [info]aibrean_owl and told her and her family to meet us in the wilderness. we drove and drove, and got to this place right on the beach. we had to cut through some people's properties and backyards to get to the water. there were big, slipperly logs to cross and the kids kept slipping and tumbling into spikey underbrush. at one point we had to cross a log that housed a nest of giant bees. they were as big as my hand. the kids and i were terrified of them but leon kept shouting from up ahead, "it's okay! don't be scared! they are only bees!"

we finally made it down to this pebbly beach and i could see [info]aibrean_owl and her family were there already. she was in the water, swimming, her daughter was splashing in the shallows, her older son and husband and baby boy were in a dingy paddling around, having a great time. we said hello and tried to set up camp. i started cooking up chickpea burgers. the sky clouded over and then a big boat, like a war canoe, came up onto shore, filled with young partiers. they offered us magic mushrooms in trade for some of our food. leon was into it but i felt that going on a hallucinogenic trip while society was collapsing was a recipe for paranoid disaster. i gave them all a burger so that my husband could get high. after we ate it seemed that a fight broke out amongst the partiers. two women, each with babies in slings, started screaming at each other about where they were going to set up their tent. one of them slapped the other one. i tried to intervene, i was worried about the babies being in the middle of the violence and got my face scratched for my efforts. [info]aibrean_owl and i then got mad ourselves, joined forces, and started throwing all the partiers things back in their canoe, yelling that if they couldn't get along they weren't welcome in our retreat. i was mad that leon was too fucked up to help us bully them off our shore. i kept kicking wet pebbles at him every time i walked by. when the partiers saw we were serious, and were about to push their huge canoe away from shore with all their stuff in it, and none of them on it, they started yelling, "uncle! uncle! okay we give up!" and they climbed in their canoe and paddled away.

i dreamed that my daughter went missing. i dreamed that i had dressed her up in a couple of layers of clothing, all green, and sent her out into the backyard to play with her brother for a few minutes while i finished up the dishes. it was really only a few minutes, something i've done before, because while the backyard area isn't completely fenced in, the kids do a good job out there of policing themselves for short periods, and i was going to join them right after i put the last of the dishes in the cupboards. also, leon was home and was supposed to be keeping an eye on them from the deck, where he was sweeping up the leaves that our dogwood tree rains down upon it every autumn.

only when i finished putting the dishes away, i slipped into my shoes and walked into the backyard to only find liam playing by himself under some cedar trees. "where's laurel?" i asked, casually, thinking she must have slipped into a friends' house. he shrugged. "i dunno," he said. i looked over at her friends place and saw that they were not home, their curtains were closed and it was dark looking inside. i started calling her name, louder and louder, as i walked in concentric circles around the yard. no reply. leon's ears were perked and he soon joined me. we kept liam nearby as we widened our search to the rest of the complex, out beyond the pool (which i very heisitantly looked into to be sure she hadn't somehow scaled the fence and fallen in), and into the parking lots. there was no sign of her. i began yelling in earnest and could feel the blood pounding in my ears. leon and i decided to split up and cover the areas of the complex that were out of earshot of our unit. i walked up through the corridors between townhouses towards the playground on one side, he walked up the other. the whole time i was thinking we'd find her at the playground, that she'd gotten it into her head to go up there alone. but she wasn't there. leon and liam and i met at the slide, and though i wanted to cry, i tried to keep it together. we decided to walk back slightly different ways, calling her name ever louder, until we got home. and if there was still no sign of her, we'd call the police.

which we did. leon then went out to knock on the neighbours' doors to ask if anyone had seen her. i stayed at home with liam, who went downstairs to watch t.v. while we waited for the police to show up. i was panicking deep inside but trying to remain calm on the surface for liam's benefit, who still seemed unworried and even slightly oblivious. she could have walked into anyone's unit, told them that we said it was alright. leon was going to find her just a couple of doors down. he had to.

but that didn't happen. instead as i was standing out on the front stoop, watching leon go from door-to-door, i saw the police cruiser pull into our parking lot. leon stopped his canvassing and walked over to talk to the cops. they said something urgent to him and he looked up at me and said, "they've found her, i'm going with them, i'll call you!" and before i could demand more information he jumped in the car and they sped off. i walked back in the house, choking back tears. if they'd found her, why hadn't they brought her home? something had to be terribly wrong. i tried to busy myself in the kitchen, mindlessly wiping the counters, boiling the kettle for coffee i wouldn't drink, reorganizing the bottles of soaps and detergents near the faucet. liam came upstairs and asked if they'd found laurel and i said yes and that she would be home in a little while, daddy was just going to pick her up.

the phone rang a short time later and it was leon. "she's here, at the hospital," he said, but his voice was funny, like he had something stuffed into his throat. "is she okay? is she okay?" i asked, frantic. "she's here. they found her, lynn. she wandered off into the street and she was hit by a car. she's here and they found her." "but is she okay?!" i screamed into the phone. liam perked his ears up from his seat at the dining room table where i'd fixed him a small sandwich. he walked over and put his hands on my hip. i started crying when leon didn't answer right away because i knew. i knew before he even said the words. "she's not. she's not okay, lynn. she was hit by a car going 60k and she died on the way to the hospital. she's here and i'm going to see her in just a few minutes. they want to clean her up a little before i see her to identify her. but she's here, at least we know she's here." and he dissolved into tears on the phone, and i fell down on my knees in the kitchen and began to wail, the phone clattering across the floor, liam falling down with me, putting his hands on my face and trying to look me in the eyes. i lay there screaming and sobbing for a long time. liam started to cry too, though i still hadn't said the words to him, he knew what my reaction meant, and we laid on the tile together, crying and crying forever.

"maybe it wasn't her," i said, "maybe it wasn't her and it was someone else's baby and when leon sees that he'll call again, liam. he'll call again and say, they were wrong, it's not laurel, go outside, keep looking, call her name some more. and we'll find her. we'll find her again. she can't be gone. she can't be." and liam was nodding and smoothing his palms against my cheeks hoping to stem the flow of tears that were so upsetting for him to see pour out of my eyes. but when the phone rang again, leon didn't say that. he said it was her, that he'd seen her in her little green outfit. and he was sobbing, too. and then i threw up.

the dream then shifted to a day or two later. and my mother was in the house with me, trying to help me get up out of bed, get dressed. she'd arranged a funeral, a real catholic funeral, a mass for our daughter. she wanted me to get dressed to go and i was stubbornly not co-operating, still trying to cling to the idea that it was not my daughter who had died, as if refusing to go to her funeral would make her come to life again. but my mother insisted and pulled a black dress over my head. i yelled at her for setting up a catholic mass, none of us were catholics anymore, none of us, we hadn't been in a church since the last family wedding where no one took communion because it had been decades since anyone in the family had confessed or attended service, my daughter wasn't even christened. and she forced my feet into shoes and said that laurel could be admitted into the church and accepted into heaven if we all went to this mass and said prayers and sang hymns and i wanted that for her, at least, didn't i? and when i screamed at her no! it was all bullshit! she slapped me across the face and and screamed back, "you are coming! she is your daughter! you will do right by her!"

and then the dream jumped again and we were shuffling into the church and i was literally choking on my sobs, my legs and knees and feet completely numb and unyielding to my brain's insistance that we enter. and i could see my daughter's casket, open, at the front of the church, and so many people there were lined up to see her, to gawk at her, and i began shaking and had to press the back of my wrist to my mouth to keep the vomit from coming out. leon was next to me, had his hand on my elbow, guiding me, though to look at his face i knew he was as lost as i was. liam was on my other side, clinging loosely to my dress, looking bewildered. i did not want to look at her in the casket. i did not want to be a spectacle for all the church-goers. but i was slowly guided up to the front, where the people all turned to look at us, and parted like waves, and leon and liam and i walked and walked long up the aisle as they let us pass, and then i was looking down at her small, white face in a small, white, satin-lined coffin, in a small, white, lacey dress. and i bit the inside of my lips so hard i drew blood and wanted to throw myself over her small body. and i didn't even make a move to do it but leon sensed the urge in me and quickly turned me away from her, to force me into a pew at the front, to sit me down. and i let myself be guided because the rushing of blood in my ears and the welling of hot tears in my eyes bewildered me and made everything in the church go swimmy and raw and hot and confusing. and as my bottom hit the hard wood of the pew, suddenly a chorus of singing rose up into the air and i looked up into the balconey that hung over the pulpit, and saw hundreds upon hundreds of small laurels in the same tiny white dress she was wearing in the casket, singing, singing, singing their hearts out, all latin words i could not understand, and they all had tiny, delicate silvery angel wings pinned to the backs of their dresses and my mother was next to me, sobbing, and leon was putting his arm around my shoulders, and squeezing me, squeezing me so hard i thought i would cry out from the pain but at the same time glad for it because it kept me in my body. it kept me from flying up out of my body into that balconey where all the laurel imposters were singing for her soul, and ripping them to pieces with my bare hands, sobbing as i did it, raining blood and a mother's rage and grief down onto the congregation.

ghost story

i dreamed last night that my family and i were staying at a friend's house for a week. i don't know this person in real life. they had an old brownstone somewhere in vancouver proper, and a little boy about the same age as liam (and who looked remarkably like him, too). their house was beautiful and huge, there were two guestrooms, one for leon and i and one for our kids. the first night we were there, leon and i were cuddled up in the huge, fluffy bed, just dozing off, when i heard my daughter scream in a blood-curdling way. leon and i leapt out of bed and ran down the hall to see what was the matter. she was saying that another, older girl had come in their room and tried to "hit" her and liam. liam confirmed this story and said that when laurel screamed, the girl had dropped the "big hammer" she'd been carrying and then both she and the weapon had just vanished. no, she didn't walk out of the room. they had simply disappeared.

the rest of the house had woken up and come to see what the fuss was at this point. we all walked around looking for the mysterious girl with the "big hammer" and couldn't find any trace of her. we tucked the kids back into their beds and the woman of the house took me aside and told me that they had had a daughter some years ago, but that she had died in an "accident". she was 8 when their son had been born, and died at the age of 12. a year after she died, her apparition had been appearing in different rooms all around the house, always angry and threatening, but never doing any harm to anyone except their son, who she tormented endlessly with threats of beating him to death with a huge, leather-covered mallet. i was immediately terrified and went back to the room leon and i were sharing to tell him the news. instead of sharing my fear, in typical leon style, he was fascinated and waited up all night to see if the girl would appear to us, but she didn't.

the next day, i was somehow left alone in the house with this family's young son, while everyone else went out to run errands. he was playing quietly in his upstair bedroom and i was reading on the couch in their livingroom. suddenly the hairs on the back of my neck stood up and i got a really creepy feeling in my stomach. i looked over to the stone fireplace they had and something about the large, flat, center stone at the base of the fireplace caught my attention...it wasn't sitting perfectly flat or in line with the other stones. i got up and went over to it slowly, still feeling this eerie sensation of being watched. i kept expecting the apparation of the girl to appear, but she didn't. i tested the stone and found it could be moved quite easily out of place. as i shifted it up and onto the other cemented stones i found it was a kind of dirt-filled cubby hole, and inside were sheets and sheets of yellowed paper and photographs. as i started to pull them out i saw they were very crude children's drawings, but not of pastoral scenes and crooked houses. instead they were very violent and gory pictures of a dark-haired girl being beaten to death by a smaller, sandy-haired little boy, who was holding what looked to be a huge, leather-covered mallet. my heart started racing in my chest as i looked at the rest of the drawings, all depicting the same scene in various stages of violence. first, she was hit across the face and red crayon marks showed blood flying from her mouth. in the next picture, she was on the ground, trying to cover her head, and the boy was standing over her with the mallet raised, a grimace of anger on his small face. in the next, the mallet hit her in the head again, this time against her ear, more blood flying from her nose and mouth. and in the final picture, the little boy stood with the mallet hanging limp from his hand, over the body of the clearly dead girl.

i rolled the drawings up, feeling sick to my stomach, and tried to press them back into the hole. there were black and white photographs mingled into the dirt there, too, and i reluctantly picked them out, one by one, blowing the soil off of them. each of them was a recent portrait of the boy that lived in the house, but he was not smiling in any of them. instead his eyes looked dead and flat and black, his face slack. he was wearing a dark turtleneck sweater and looking hollow-cheeked and staring right into the camera. i flipped through the photos quickly, feeling as though this boy could actually see me through the pictures and wanting very much to not be noticed by him. in the final picture, his face was no longer entirely expressionless. instead, while he was still staring directly into the camera, a small smile played at the corner of his lips. when i peered more closely at the background of the photo, i could see a smeary impression of the dead girl standing just off to the side, also staring into the camera as the photo was snapped.

that did it for me. my heart was racing and i felt like throwing up. i knew that the boy was ill, was very, very ill, and had killed his older sister in a violent and brutal way, and i knew that the parents had tried to hide this from everyone, and suddenly, i also knew that if i took the time and effort to move all of the stones away from the hearth in front of the fireplace, and dig through the soil there, i would find her corpse. suddenly i heard noises from the upstairs and realized the boy was coming down. in a panic, i tried to stuff all the drawings and photos down my shirt because i wanted to show them to leon, and i frantically swept the dirt i'd sprayed all over the hearth back into the hole and replaced the loose stone. i managed to jump up and get back to my seat on the couch before the little boy walked into the livingroom and stared at me. i had a huge lump in my throat and was barely controlling my breathing. i said hello to him and asked him what he was up to, trying to sound nonchalant. he didn't answer, he just looked at me, and then his eyes moved slowly over to the fireplace, and then back to me. i felt a little dirt was still crusted on my fingertips and tried to hide my hands behind my back. he left the room again without saying anything and i sighed and wondered what on earth i would do with this knowledge.

finally leon and the rest of them all came back from their shopping trip, loaded down with groceries and other items. i impatiently waited for my chance to talk with leon, to tell him what i'd discovered, but we didn't get a moment alone all day, until finally, after putting the kids to bed and retiring to our own room, i had his full attention. i pulled all the boy's drawings of his depiction of the murder of his sister and all the creepy black and white photographs out and told leon i was sure the little girl was buried in the fireplace somehow. he was immediately alarmed and intrigued and we tried to decide what to do next. as we were talking, our bedroom door swung open, and there the girl stood, a smeary apparition, not really glowing but standing out from her more solid surroundings in a way that was obviously supernatural. i was so terrified i couldn't even move. leon's jaw dropped open. her hair was long and dark and she was dressed in a peach-coloured nightgown made of what appeared to be very thin cloth. she looked to be about 11 or 12 years old. she was holding a mallet in her right hand but did not raise it. instead she lifted her left hand and pointed down the hallway, in the direction of the room our kids were sleeping in, and then vanished.

i freaked, certain she was going to go to their room and terrify/harm my kids again. i somehow got it into my head that because my son looked so much like her killer she was going to seek revenge on the wrong boy. leon and i sprung out of our bed, leaving all the crude drawings and creepy portraits of the boy behind on the covers, and as we dashed into the hallway we could see the door to our kids' room swinging open onto darkness. i started to call out my kids' names, trying to wake them, to warn them, but just as my voice rang into the hallway my son and daughter both screamed in terror. leon and ran as fast as we could into their room and flicked on the light, to find not the ghost-girl standing over them, but the other little boy, poised over their beds, not speaking, and holding a wooden baseball bat. leon tackled him immediately, sending him sprawling across the wood floor, while i ran to the bed and scooped my two kids up in my arms. the kids were sobbing, liam was saying, "i never liked him, i never liked him, but i didn't do anything to him, why does he want to hurt us?' and laurel was pressing her face into my neck. leon picked up the baseball bat in one hand and the silent boy in the other, and as he turned to march out of the room, the ghost-girl appeared in the mirror above the chest of drawers. she was crying and holding the mallet still. i pointed at the mirror and told leon we had to get out of here, take all the pictures and our suspicions to the police. he agreed, and that was when the door to the room swung shut, and we heard a key turn in the lock. we were trapped. and that was when i forced myself to wake up.

as i entered the dream i knew that my daughter was dead. she had been gone for several days. i don't know how she died, i don't know why we hadn't told anyone else, i don't know why we chose to bury her in the garden instead of contacting the authorities. the thought that eventually someone might ask me where she was when they realized she was curiously absent did not cross my mind. i was, instead, simply sitting on the couch, rocking back and forth, and repeating her name endlessly under my breath. we had friends over and none seemed to notice she wasn't there. my husband was walking around the house looking shell shocked but trying to keep it together for the gathering we were hosting. my son was outside, presumeably to play, but i knew he was actually just sitting on the wet grass under the dogwood tree, staring.

suddenly, my old cat, bagheera, strolled into the livingroom, looking fresh and white and beautiful as always. this would not have been unusual had he not also died, last december. he casually leaped up into my lap, curled up, and began purring. tears sprang to my eyes as i began to pet him. he showed no trace of having been dead for nine months, or of having been buried in our garden. i cried out, "leon! leon! it's bagheera! look! he's alive, he's okay!" leon glanced over but wasn't the least bit interested in coming to see his newly ressurected cat. i was still stroking him and staring at him in wonder. how did this happen?

then we heard it. "mommy..." at the front door. "mommy..." the sound of little fists knocking and her sweet little voice. "mommy..."

i jumped up, letting the cat drop to the floor, and dashed to the front door, opening it to see my small daughter, not dead, not dead, not dead, but alive! relief coursed through my system and i bent over and swooped her up into my arms, looking her in the eyes. she was smiling at me. she also showed no sign of having been buried in the dirt under our bean plants. she was wearing her favourite jacket and had pigtails in her hair. i sobbed and laughed. i swung her around and said her name outloud. i cried. i pressed her body against mine and put my face into her hair. that was when i smelled her. she was pungent and the scent was the unmistakeable scent of the decomposition of flesh, at once both tangy and sweet and foul. i held her out from me again, looking her all over. she was still laughing and smiling. i looked around the room to find leon staring at us in wonder. there was an unspoken agreement between us to not tell anyone that laurel had died, so how could we publicly express our shock and wonder at her rising from her sodden grave? she was wiggling in my arms, the smell still rising off of her. i was at once repelled and yet i could not let her go. i pressed her to me again, deciding that it didn't matter, even if she was undead, i was still too happy to have her back in my life. if the only thing i had to get used to was the scent of decay eminating off her body it was a small price to pay. i started to let her down, so she could go play with the other children that were visiting our house, and that was when i saw that one of her ears, behind her hair, was discoloured and wilted looking. i pushed the hair back to look more closely. it was unnaturally leathery and tanned looking, brown-leaning-towards-yellowy black. her arm swung around to push me away - she wanted to go play - and when her jacket sleeve slid up with the movement i saw more signs of decay along her forearm. medium-to-large yellowish spots surrounded by the dark purpley-black rings of blood pooling in her flesh. i put her down. my body filled with grief. i knew she was still dead, then. i knew it, and i did not know what to do about it. she trundled off into the backyard, still acting completely normal.

i cornered leon and we tried to talk about what to do. how could we tell anyone what was going on when we'd never even said anything about her dying in the first place? how could we explain our reasoning for burying her in the garden instead of contacting the authorities and letting all of the official stuff happen? how could we express our shock and fear and amazement that our daughter had risen from the dead? i told him about the signs of decay on her body, the smell. we knew it would only be a matter of time before she started to fall apart completely. then it would be obvious, then we would be in trouble. i started to cry again, filled with grief. leon suggested we take her somewhere remote and drown her, or burn her, or cut her into pieces and bury them far apart from one another. i sobbed and sobbed. her first death had not been our fault; how could i say yes to ending her existance purposefully. how could we think we'd get away with it? "no, no," i said, panicking. "no. we'll take her to the hospital. we'll show them the spots on her body, make them smell her. they'll know what to do. please. we can't do anything else."

we looked out over the edge of the balconey at her playing merrily with her friends. she seemed completely normal if a little slower than usual. liam was standing beside the tree, not playing or talking, just staring at his sister in wonder and fear. the little spots and discolourations on her skin were so visible to me. i felt like i would have to watch her disintegrate over time, this way. i felt that her leaving us again was an inevitibility. i was completely seized with grief and sorrow. i wanted to pull her to me, to fill her up with love, to try and cure whatever sickness had fallen on her. but i was afraid. i was afraid of the smell of death. i was afraid that if i hugged her too hard, her skin would come away from her flesh in pieces. i woke up with tears squeezing out of my eyes.

i was in labour - transition, in fact - and i thought, "what the hell? i'm not pregnant!" but there wasn't much room in my brain for wondering about this curious happenstance, because the baby was coming right now and i was completely alone with only my husband in the room with me. i moaned and screamed her out. her head appeared first and i put my hand on her little wet scalp and peered down at her scrunched-up face. then her body slithered out and i pulled her up onto my stomach to look more closely at her. she wasn't screaming or crying and i saw that the cord was wrapped, tight, around her neck. i nearly panicked and tried to slip my wet fingers between her neck and the thick, wet cord, but it was so tight there was no room to do so. in terror i pressed my teeth against the cord and bit. it was rubbery. the baby was turning blue. i bit and bit, and finally, it sprang back with a tiny gush of blood. i looked at the baby again, definitely a girl, and she was still not breathing or crying. i held her to my chest and patted her back hard, saying, "breathe, breathe, breathe." finally she gulped back a tiny bit of air. and again. and again. and then she wailed.

i looked up at my husband, adrenalyn pumping through my body.

"how did this happen!" i cried, accusatory. "how did this happen! you had a vasectomy! how could i get pregnant!"

he had no words. in fact, he did not want to look me in the face. it was then i knew the baby was not his. i clutched her to my body. we were cold, wet, messy. leon was not helping at all. i felt little contractions still, as my body tried to expell the placenta. "i don't understand. i didn't even know i was pregnant. how did i get this baby?"

he walked out of the room, still not speaking to me, letting me alone with the baby girl, who i named rebecca. she was quiet as i pressed her to my breast, she latched on perfectly. i tried to remember...and couldn't. i tried to feel anything at all about this turn of events, but couldn't. all i felt was acute dread at having to take care of another baby, another newborn; this time, completely alone.

i was in an abandoned amusement park and robin williams was there, hugging me and talking about how great it's been to watch me grow up, ever since i was one of the children actors in "the world according to garp". "i've known you for 25 years, lynn," he said, "and you've turned into a beautiful woman." and then he squeezed my ass.

it was the night after a huge, blowout, wing ding of a party on the Flaming Lips compound in oklahoma city, oklahoma. the place was still kind of a shambles, since no one had had the wherewithall to pick up the detritus of intense fun-having of the night before. popped balloons and empty beer bottles and clothes were strewn recklessly throughout the section of the house i found myself in. i was sitting on a lumpy but comfortable sofa. the light was dim and cozy. i was wearing a blue, zip-up hoodie with nothing but a bra on underneath, and jeans. i had been trying to doze, someone had put a blanket over me, but steven drozd walked into the room and started chatting quietly with me. there was a t.v. on, at the other end of the room, with no sound. he was holding a camcorder and trying to document everything that was happening. he started filming me and i felt uncharacteristically chatty and outgoing. i flipped the blanket down from under my chin and unzipped my hoodie and impishly flashed my enormous tits at the camera. drozd thought this was hilarious and i blushed and covered up again. he begged me to do it again, so i did. that was when wayne coyne walked into the room too, and sat next to me. i asked him where steve burns was, since he was kind of my chaperone at the party. he said that steve was busy in the studio at the other end of the compound, but that he'd be back later. steven drozd told wayne i'd been flashing my breasts at the camcorder and wayne scootched over closer to me, his thin legs pressed together and his arm around my shoulder. "do it again," he said. i flushed and declined, suddenly shy again. "come on, just once more," he urged, "i want photographic evidence that i was present for such an important unveiling." i started laughing and flipped the blanket down again and unzipped the hoodie just enough to show the rounded tops of my moonwhite boobs. drozd was just very matter-of-factly filming everything that was happening, getting it at different angles, kneeling in front of wayne and i. wayne was sort of lecherously hanging over my shoulders at that point, looking straight down into my impressive cleavage, not saying anything, until finally he uttered, "i must touch them. just so." and i acquiesced and the next thing i knew his warm palm was just very gently and softly grazing the barely visible tops of my breasts, over and over again. it wasn't sexual at all, at least not for me. it felt more like i was an avatar of the goddess and coyne was worshipping at her altar, paying his respects, almost.

this went on for a while. i remember thinking how skinny his legs and knees were, next to me. his tender touch was like that of a child, a newly-weaned child, still longing for the comfort of mother's milk but knowing he'll be redirected if he gains the courage to ask for it. no words were spoken, until steve burns walked into the room and took the scene in with wide brown eyes. i knew in an instant he was immeasurably jealous and disappointed in me. i pushed wayne's hand away at that point and zipped the hoodie up to my chin. "this is how it is," steve said, "i see." i stood up and tried to think of the right thing to say but nothing came. steve turned and walked back out. drozd was still filming everything. wayne stood up and shrugged. "he'll get over it," he said. "it was entirely innocent. we are all artists here, after all."

i also dreamt that i was at the beach with my kids, and my son turned to me and said, "mom, can i have a smoke?" and i put a cigarette inbetween his lips and lit it for him, thinking "i really shouldn't be doing this!" and saying to him, "if anyone else comes along you've gotta ditch that thing!" and him nodding in a conspiratorial kind of way. god! i am trying to not put too much stock in that dream, though...because just before this had happened we were watching jeff goldblum dash, naked, through the roiling surf and he waved at me to join him and i declined. ha. as if i would ever say no to frolicking naked with jeff goldblum.

i dreamed last night that i went over to mom's and my aunt was there and she was like, this withered husk of who she was when i last saw her. i approached her from behind, first, as she was standing in the kitchen getting a glass out of the cupboard and it was obvious that she'd dropped like a million pounds and i was shocked that that could happen in a month, and then she turned around when i said, "hi auntie," and i nearly fell to my knees from shock because her whole body was completely withered and wrinkled like those shrivelled apple head dolls, and saggy and her cheeks were hollow and she just looked...i don't know...sick. and i started crying and saying, "oh auntie, why, why, why?" and she slapped me across the face and yelled at me, "do you really think i looked better 100lbs heavier?!?!" and i kept crying even though she hit me and i said, "you don't understand, you did, you did look better! and this is like...it's like you're hurting me that you did this!"

then the dream changed, and i was in serbia or bosnia or chechnaya or somewhere obscurely eastern european like that. it was like a big group holiday my family and i had gone on with my mom and our friend S. we were having a good time, researching our ancestors or something, but as we were leafing through folders in this green, dusty back room in a town library people started yelling outside and there were gunshots. we went to the doors to see the military moving through the streets, firing on what appeared to be unarmed civilians. we panicked and ducked under tables and tried to hide in between the stacks of books and file cases and waited until the soldiers had all passed to actually step out into the street. a man approached us and asked us if our rental car was parked across the road in this gated parking lot and we said yes. he gave our friend S. a tiny key and said he could go over there and take our belongings out of it but that we could no longer have access to the vehicle. S. went over and unlocked the padlock on the gate under the watchful gaze of a lone soldier, and got our things while we all waited, chewing our fingernails and trying to keep my kids occupied and unaware of what was happening. S. came back and handed us all our jackets and things, and i said, "oh no! i forgot to tell you that my passport and other i.d. was in the glove box, can you go back and get that?" and S. nodded and smiled and walked back over to unlock the gate again. the soldier didn't even look at him. we watched him walk across the parking lot. the sky was heavy and grey with clouds and it was starting to rain. i turned to say something to my mom, when there was a huge explosion that threw the soldier to the ground and rattled the windows of the library behind us, and when i looked over i saw that it was our rental car that had exploded, and in rush of agony i knew that there was no way S. had survived it, that he had probably triggered the car bomb by opening the glove box, that it had been me that had asked him to do it, and i looked at my mom again and there were tears in her eyes and disbelief and i just screamed at the top of my lungs and fell down on the ground and screamed and wept and screamed and screamed and everyone else was crying and screaming too and all i could think was, "how on earth can i go home and tell his family this?" and i woke up with my ears ringing.

i don't read Latin

this is my translation of Thomae Campiani's Elegiarum Libre
translated even though i don't read the language it was written in.

True, years add moonlight to your fruit, passing green days
Truth is also aesthetic and soft, Sybil, love.
Creating new infernos in pallid flowers
And seeing, tricky, "Your day, for sooth, erodes."
And voices "arid" and bland seep scarlet echoes;
Alluding voices mimick my nymph, so missed.
You tricked them, simulated suspect, forearmed
Struck dumb by your spectre, more cutting than Love.
It's tactile, tacit ills; taciturn spirits wrote:
This liquor, offensive, quarrelsome days.
Truthfully, I love Venus' parties where who bleeds, soothsays
Lighting insidious fires behind.
Nine takes its immortality, Love saves her special scents
To crudely fix man to his accurate pictures.
"Hey miser," you cry, "You musn't put Mama into labour;"
"Labour," the echoes reply, "To what rogue diva do you refer?
our Sybil?" "I am," you respond: seeping venom
molts ages of truth far from your nibblings:
some danger; and thanks, oh furnace that quickly and temporarily ignites,
I am middlin, no more a frigid poet with only hymns.



this is the original poem:
Thomae Campiani
Elegiarum Libre

Ver anni lunaeque fuit: pars verna diei;
verque erat aetatis dulce, Sybilla, tuae.
carpentem vernos niveo te pollice flores
ut vidi, dixi, "tu dea veris eris."
et vocalis "eris" blanditaque reddidit Eccho;
allusit votis mimica nympha meis.
vixdum nata mihi simulat suspiria, formam
quae dum specto tuam plurima cudit Amor.
si taceo, tacet illa; tacentem spiritus urit:
si loquor, offendor garrulitate deae.
veris amica Venus fetas quoque sanguine venas
incendit flammis insidiosa suis.
nec minus hac immitis Amor sua spicula nostro
pectore crudeli fixit acuta manu.
"heu miser," exclamo, "causa non laedor ab una;"
"una," Eccho resonat; "quam, rogo, diva, refers?
anne Sybillam?" "illam," respondit: sentio vatem
mox ego veridicam fatidicamque nimis:
nam perii, et verno quae coepit tempore flamma,
iam mihi non ullo frigore ponet hyems.


a fun exercise that you should try. pick a poem in a language you don't read. translate it anyway. post your results.

the icing on the tart

then i had a dream where i was at a party and simultaneously flirting with and making out with three different men, none of whom were my husband. one was even a friend (not a close one, someone i've barely seen in the last few years) and he was the one i was most excited about. one of the others was a 21 year old boy who was kind of preppy and had a goatee and was fat, and i would kiss him and he'd kiss back but then he'd apologize and act self-deprecating and say derrogatory stuff about his body. like, "i know i'm so huge it can't be fun to kiss me, but i swear i'll lose weight soon," and i was like, "don't even worry about it, baby," trying to reassure him but he was having none of it. and the third guy was this man i saw in a german movie last week called "enlightenment guarenteed" which was interesting and somewhat amusing but i didn't dig on some of the subtext to the film, but that's besides the point. as i was making out with this guy i was asking him questions about the movie, like, "now wait, did you play the role of ulwe? or were you gunther?" and he would say, "nein, nein, i vas ulwe!" he looked kind of like frasier. it was weird. i woke up feeling somewhat guilty over being such a tarty tart in my dreams, while leon slept next to me, blissfully unaware.

waiting for a superman

when i opened my eyes in my dream last night, i discovered i was back in my mama superhero costume. the rainbow harem pants, the silver corset, the silver boots, the big, crazy hair. i was in sydney australia, trying to navigate the train system there; and i was in a big rush. my girl [info]most_mysterious was with me, but she wasn't a superhero; she was desperately trying to find her daughter who'd gotten lost in a crush of people at train station and we hadn't noticed until we were already on the train and moving that she wasn't with us. we went two stations before we could push our way out of the car. we were both in a panic but i felt very strongly we'd be able to get back to her daughter. i had to literally shove people out of our way to get off the car. the train we'd been on was destined for a place called "trifle", and we had to go the opposite way on the line towards "ewing". i finally got us both off the train and we started dashing up a huge metal ramp to get to the other side of the tracks. there we passed a woman i met last year, a mother of one of liam's kindergarten classmates. she didn't have either of her two boys with her, though; instead she had twin toddler daughters who were having trouble getting up the ramp -- they kept falling and bonking their heads. i wanted to stop and help but [info]most_mysterious was panicking and screaming at me to go faster. i finally grabbed her by the upper arm and...i don't know how to describe it...it was like in the other dream when i managed to sort of defy gravity somewhat and take huge leaps through the air, bouncing down and then back up again, covering great amounts of terrain in a fraction of the time it would take a non-superhero to walk. she was trailing along beside me, trying to keep up, but i was dragging her through the air and her pathetic little mortal feet would scramble on the pavement each time we touched down. at one point she just looked up at me and said, "what on earth happened to you?" and i shrugged and said, "i've got no idea, but am i ever glad it did." and then i woke up. i have to say, i'm very much enjoying my "super-mama" dreams. i always come up to consciousness feeling very strong and vital. i wonder what they mean?

you seem so out of context

i dreamed last night that i was walking along a beach with my kids when a huge electrical storm hit and i had to run and dodge lightning bolts while dragging my kids along with me. we managed to find shelter in this weird skyscraper that was shaped like a horseshoe, and the ends of the horseshoe were wide open to the elements. a whole lot of people were seeking shelter in it, and despite it being a huge building, everyone was crowding into the lowest floor because (i was told) there was a monster of a tornado ripping towards the area. i forced my way to the back of the horseshoe shape and tucked my kids into a little dark closet so that they'd be safe from the blasting winds and rain, and then i tried to find my own space to crouch down. i was pushing my way through the throngs of people when i saw my mom stumbling along the beach, struggling through the torrential rain and barely missing being hit by lightning, and i ran out of the building again to try and help her. i pulled her inside just as the tornado appeared on the horizon, roiling across the choppy grey water of the ocean. it was massive. as thick and wide as an apartment complex, and taller than any building i'd ever seen, its funneled top swirling up into the atmosphere. i could see cars and huge chunks of houses swirling around inside its black innards and it's movement was purposeful and definitely headed straight towards the horseshoe building. i was terrified! i grabbed my mom and pushed her against one of the walls, yelling "crouch down! close your eyes! cover the back of your neck with your arms! i love you!" and we crouched down and the sound of the approaching tornado was deafening and rising by the second. becase my eyes were closed i did not see it hit but the sound of it became so horrendously loud that it drowned out my own screams. i didn't feel it hit.

when i opened my eyes, i was lying on the floor of a shiny, mirrored elevator, alone. stunned and confused, i stood up and took note of my appearance in the mirrors on the walls. the elevator was moving, heading down. my hair was long and impossible huge, pulled back into tight pony tail, and it was dyed a platinum yellow with streaks of pink, blue, peach and purple threaded throughout it. my clothes were even stranger. i was wearing a tight silver corset that zipped up the front and these crazy, colourful harem pants that flowed out around my thighs and the top half of my calves until they met up with my shiny, silver lace-up boots. on my arms i wore long, fingerless rainbow gloves that rode all the way up to just below my shoulders. looking in that elevator mirror, i realized the tornado had transformed me into some kind of new
superhero.

the elevator stopped moving, finally, and when the doors opened i stepped out into the lobby of what i assumed to be some kind of business building. people in dark suits clacked to and fro across the marble tile. i was quite a sight among them and got many strange looks, but it didn't bother me because i felt impervious and immune and confident. i strode across the lobby and stepped out into the impossibly bright sunlight of downtown seattle. traffic was crazy and after standing at a streetlight for a long time, waiting for the light to change and grinning at all the people who gawked at my crazy hair and apparel, i finally lifted my right leg high in the air, and stepped up onto the hood of a moving car, the driver within shocked and then suddenly swearing at me. i ignored him and began dashing across the road by leaping from moving car to moving car, all the drivers freaking out and honking and the crowds on the streets clapping and laughing at me. it was almost as though i did not have to obey the laws of physics anymore; striding over the moving vehicles felt like what i imagine walking on the moon would feel like, and although all the traffic was moving quickly and dangerously, i
knew i was in no peril. i was on my way to find my children and my mother, and nothing would stop me.

after i got across the intersection i strode down a shady alley and just as i exited onto another busy street a cherry red convertible filled with the seattle mamas peeled around a corner and came to a screeching halt in front of me. [info]charris, [info]photosprout, [info]estersin and [info]contessapiranha were all inside, laughing and hooting at me and motioning for me to get in the car with them. they were all done up in super hero costumes of their own, brightly coloured and a couple of them were even masked, and i remember specifically that [info]contessapiranha had some kind of fancy magic ring on her finger, heavy and thick and silver, and as i leapt into the backseat of the car she raised her bejewled hand into the air, made a fist, closed her eyes, and fwoom!, a sonic blast filled the street, bending skyscraper windows in on themselves, and stopping time. [info]photosprout was driving, and she dodged expertly around the frozen cars and pedestrians while we all cackled crazily, feeling high on our powers, and knowing that we were going to fulfill all our obligations as the world's new saviours.

and i can hear, see, smell, touch, taste

last night i dreamed of orcas. big orcas, baby orcas. i was standing on a rocky shore with friends and we were watching them moving up a thin channel layered with shallow rocks and raging rapids and the babies were small but still twice the size of me and one was riding atop it's mother's back. and the mother lifted herself up onto a red wooden bridge just below my rocky vantage point and i was terrified she wouldn't be able to thwump her way across the wood to get back into the icy water and i crawled my way down the ledge and put my hands all over her back and pressed my nose into her rubbery skin and smelled salt and seaweed and told her it was time to go home. and her great eye whirled around backwards and looked at me, black and white and shining, and it seemed her head imperceptibly nodded and whap whap whap her great tail thrashed and her great body moved and she splashed down.

i climbed back up onto the rocks to sit with my friends again and watch them all swim away, and then, without knowing why, and feeling guilty, we flicked our cigarette butts into the orca-free water, watched them dampen and swirl in the eddies and currents, and disappear around a corner, and i woke up.

point of awareness

i half-dreamed i was talking to an old lady on a bus, and she asked me to hold out my hands, palms up, and depending on which hand was lower, right or left, i'd know how many good dreams, and how many bad dreams, i had left in me for the rest of my life. i couldn't tell which hand was lower and was about to ask her which hand meant good and which hand meant bad when she raised her own hand to me and slapped me square in the chest, hard and purposefully, as though she were trying to pound life back into me, clucking angrily. "there!" she cried, "there! stupid girl. this was a test! the dreams aren't in your hands. they're in your heart. wake up!" she slapped my chest, right between my breasts, again. hard. she was furious and frustrated with me. the thumping noise her palm made against my sternum dragged me up from my half-sleep. i lay there wondering what on earth that was all about.

i'm 'the one'.

i had a dream last night i was sitting on a rooftop overlooking a huge city, at dusk. beside me was a friend who i've always harboured a sometimes-tiny, sometimes-enormous crush on. he was telling me that he was about to ask his current girlfriend to marry him. i just remember looking down between my sneakered feet, down down down, at least 30 stories between me and the sidewalk and the cars and people busying themselves below, all out of focus, and feeling as though an enormous weight was pressing on me, like it was going to crush my head. i tried to make a moaning noise, i felt so sad that he was about to marry someone that wasn't me, even though i knew i would never marry him myself, even if circumstances were different and i wasn't already somewhat happily hitched. so i tried to make this noise, this sort of moaning, sad noise, to express myself, and what came out of my throat was a genuine rumbling growl, as though my throat had grown thick with muscles and unfamilliar vocal chords. my friend took his eyes off the glittering skyline and looked at me curiously, and then his eyes grew huge and terrified. i couldn't figure out what was going on until i looked at my hands. they'd turned into great, huge, furry orange and white paws. my head felt heavier, and more square, my mouth itched. i tried to shake the feeling off and get off of the ledge to walk around a bit, and that was when i realized that i had turned into a bengal tiger. my friend was speechless, gaping at me. i twisted my body around, landed on my four huge paws, and loped slowly away, leaving him on the darkening roof, to wonder.

flash flood 04

last night i dreamed that leon and i were out in a public place together. it was busy, very busy, and we kept losing each other in the crowd. i would stand on my tip-toes and catch sight of him, leagues away from me, waving. i kept trying to get to him, unsuccessfully. i had my camera in my hands and i was snapping pictures of him every time i thought i had a good line of sight. suddenly this parade of police started marching through the crowd, with people in handcuffs at their sides. no one knew what was going on, it was some sort of massive arrest. all the "criminals" were wearing threadbare tiger costumes. i saw that one of our friends, shane, was dressed in such a costume, being led away. i caught leon's eye and he spotted shane too. we were both distressed. i started firing off pictures of shane in his tiger costume and handcuffs. despite the fact that he was obviously in trouble, he was still smiling. he didn't see me or leon even though we were yelling his name. i finally lost leon in the crowd, and decided that i would head towards home and meet with him there.

i walked and walked. i finally found myself on a deserted suburban street in one of our old neighbourhoods. i tried to walk up the steep sidewalk to get to our side street, but my legs gave way. i couldn't move at all. i was lying, prone, on the street, trying to crawl across the road. a car was trying to get past me, honking at me, but the woman inside wouldn't get out to help me. i finally managed to pull myself up to a standing position and jerkily walked across the road. it was only a block or two more to get to my street, but i couldn't do the walking. a bus appeared and i managed to climb up inside it. the driver was very concerned for me and took the bus off it's regular route to drop me at my front door. it was the house we lived in with shane before i got pregnant with my son, a tiny bungalow. when i got off the bus my legs worked again. i undid all the locks on the door with my keys and walked into the living room to find my old dog, cheevers, sleeping in a patch of sunlight. he looked up sleepily at me. i dropped my bags and jacket and called him to my side. i walked through the silent house to the kitchen and was going to open the back door to let him out so he could pee, when i saw that the back alley was raging with flood waters, at least waist-deep. they hadn't swelled into our yard yet, but i was too stunned to open the door and let the dog out. i just stared and stared and tried to figure out where all the water was coming from. suddenly a big rig appeared, driving down the hill in the flood. it was trying to create a dam out of used tires of all different sizes. it finally blocked the alleyway and suddenly all the water was thundering through my backyard and hit my house with a sonic boom sound. i clung to the window sill in shock as i watched everything that was in our yard wash away. the man who was driving the rig leapt out of the driver's side door and waded his way across my precarious back yard. he climbed up the steps and his face appeared on the other side of the window.

"hey!" he said, "hey!"

"hey!" i cried back, "what the hell is going on?"

i could barely hear him over the din of the raging flood.

"i was landscaping my backyard with this borrowed machine from my work and i hit a watermain!" he shouted. "i can fix it but i need help, and the guy who can help me won't be available until tomorrow!"

"well that doesn't do me any good!" i cried back, through the glass, "my whole house is going wash away at this rate!"

he looked sad and worried. "i know," he said, his voice suddenly quiet. even as the flood raged behind him, i could no longer hear it. it was just his face in the window, his quiet voice against the glass, his breathing. "i know. and i'm very, very sorry for that."

i banged my palm against the glass, angry. his face vanished and the sound of the flood returned. roaring. undefeatable. i felt the cement walls of the basement give way under the water's pressure. my last thought was of a photograph i'd taken, of shane, arrested, in his tiger suit, and leon's face a few yards behind him, nearly swallowed up by a crowd. my old dog whined and laid down at my feet. i banged the window again. the flood seeped under the doorway. i woke up.