02.26.03 - 11:07 p.m.

okay. my dream. my dream started out when i was walking home past big bear, which is a supermarket, on first street and sixth avenue. there used to be a pharmacy and a laundromat in that little development, but big bear kicked them out because they were going to expand the store, but they haven't gotten around to it yet.

anyway, in my dream, there was a new store there where the pharmacy used to be beside big bear. they had bright picture windows, books in the windows. somehow, it was a second-hand store, but everything looked new.

so, i walked across the parking lot and went inside. inside, they had loads and loads of books, but all of them were by the same author. i didn't recognize the name or any of the titles, but i didn't like the author, even if i might have when i was like, twelve. for whatever reason, i associated her with anne mccaffrey, of pern fame. i was all, whatever.

but as i continued to browse the books, and went past the STACKS and STACKS of this author's books, i came to another shelf that was full - literally, full - of my books. they were arranged by some system, and there were all these library books that i'd stolen, or something, arranged separately. i was all - whoa, my books? they were arranged by a professional: a librarian or something, and i remember thinking that.

and i was scared, because all those library books would get me arrested, or so i thought. so, i went out into the parking lot.

there was a group of people in the parking lot, milling around. a fair number of them were my friends and acquaintances. and there was this. big, colorful van and this pretty, eeeeevil woman, who was very charismatic, and we were all going to go do something illegal. and dangerous! but daring and exciting.

i'm not sure what it was.

everyone was getting in the van, and i was going to get in, too, but i ended up in this sports car with this guy - he was like, melt me fucking hot, in that rebel without a cause inscrutable devil may care way - who was sort of her cohort.

so, we zoomed off, the crowd in the van, and the guy and me in his sports car, off onto some enormous, like, twenty-lane highway, where half the road was closed for repairs. we ran roadblocks and took weird curlicue half-exits and kept driving and driving. later on, we had the cops on our tail, and got off the freeway to lose them, and ended up in a hotel. as we were getting off, i noticed this group of good citizens in this sort of... comic-book car open jeep, right? who were trailing us to stop us. one of them was one of the senior members of the firm.

anyway, guy and i pulled into some... random, semi-futuristic-noir-ish-motel 6 somewhere.

and then, he sent me back. i don't remember any of this conversation, or anything that happened. i do remember speeding back to the shopping center, and getting dropped off, on a street, in a driveway, sort of close to the parking lot.

and i knew more than i had before, and i knew he'd told me: that the girl wasn't going to let them participate, that the people in the van weren't going to get anything good. she was just going to fuck them over and blame everything on them, dump 'em for the police and get away. he knew i could warn them and sneak away, but he couldn't stay, so he was off, somewhere...

...so, i hunkered down behind this hedge and waited for the van to return. people started appearing in the parking lot, and i would run out to direct them, and i had to work fast because i saw the cartoon car with the "good citizens" coming and new that they wanted to get us. so i helped a few more people escape, and then i ran off down an alley.

it was early morning, and it had just rained, and i turned from the alley onto fifth avenue and walked across the train tracks, and tried to pretend i beloned there. the sky was dark, the sun hadn't come out yet, and that noir-ish feel was still in the air, like there was something i could smell, but not quite taste, or taste, but not quite name, hovering in the air.

and then, i realized that i had a package from the guy. it was a manilla envelope stuffed full of cards and letters. i wanted to read the first ones i came to, but then decided i should read them in chronological order. i just had a glimpse of the latter ones - long pages of white filled with a fine, strong hand. not quite masculine, a little too cramped for that, with flourishes here and there. printed, in black black ink, but so readable. here and there, illustrated as if illuminated by a monk, with little doodlings.

i resisted the urge to read those, because i could tell that they were written later, and pawed through the mass of papers (there were months worth of these. just, months and months worth) until i found what i decided was the very first card. it was just a good luck hallmark card, with hardly anything written on it. hey, how you doing, maybe. something like that.

and i knew, i just knew, that as time went on, he wrote more and more to me, and each time he wrote he was opening up a little bit more, and i had the weirdest, absolute conviction that he was falling in love with me (and of course: i was infatuated with him) as the months went on, so i wanted to go slow and savor the ... what was it, the change, over time.

but i woke up! before i could read anymore! ARGH. so i was all wistful.