31 July, 2018.
asleep again in the morning after feeding baby
Going the long way around with Michael W. We see a few lizards as we cross roads and head into a long park. Michael runs up the bank ahead of me until he's out of sight. When I follow the slope looms much steeper than it seemed and I'm clutching at clumps of grass. It seems impossible but Michael calls me on and I make it.
(MW is a kid I knew through Christian camps and later intermediate school and haven't seen since. We were caught leaving the camp grounds together and chastised for kissing - no-one believed that we weren't. We weren't even intending to do so - he was solely, unrequitedly in love with Rebecca F., though unbeknownst to the smug leaders I had kissed Nicolai R. in the bushes at an earlier camp)
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dream journal
(__________)
The phrase "cuttlebone query" leapt out at me from a stream of email spam babble and rattled around my head for a few years. I remember the curved white cuttlebones washed up on the beaches of my childhood summers. They suit me as metaphor for dream remnants - tiny compared to the ocean they come from; gouged and marked; hard and soft; light; gleaming wet then rasping dry.
