Squirrel's alertness when it sees the cat. Helicopter low overhead, makes all the windows shudder. In the dream, I shoot two of the assassins and capture a third, for which the University rewards me with a computerized security badge even though I'm not in its employ. In the dream, Kathleen Frumkin in a CD store is holding a very wiggly, nervous badger that she recently has rescued in the city. A washing machine understood as a series of songs.
Smog stretches red-brown over the valley, erasing the horizon.
Night can't last forever. Very rapidly I learn to negotiate the corridors of the hospital, the staff at the nursing station, the hours of its restaurant, knowing that I will just as quickly forget them all save as glimpses, tones, expressions, smells, the affects of memory. Sunset full of reds and purples frames a four-storey parking garage. Combine the flowers into a single vase. Her name is, I swear, Lavender Fog.