9:15 a.m. - October 21, 2001
dream tower
It's easy enough to forget everything when the world turns blue before your eyes, like a giant sky cataract descending, or the color of someone else's eyes. I dreamed there was a bad person after me (in dreams there are no specifics, 'rapist' or 'murderer', just a 'bad person') and he was gray chasing me up flights and flights of stairs as I took them two at a time, shedding shoes on each incline as if I were a snake and these were my scales, left there for him to trip on. There was a mission; find something special enough about everyone there to save them from being shoved out the window by their own respective 'bad people', waiting, at the top of the tower, to shove them if something sufficiently special was not said.

I was frantic with responsibility, me of all people, designated to save lives with compliments, me who hardly gives them! A friend per tower window, each backed by a gray man waiting to push, and I, my own gray man lurking about in the shadows, struggling to wrap my tongue around each little something I could say. And of course it was one of those dreams where words come out like molasses, and you are constantly having to spit on the ground to try and clear your mouth, but it never works. You speak thick and slow, overemphasizing, your throat viscuous.

Danielle, the first one for some reason, was said to have gotten everyone's lunch, which was enough for her man in gray, who stepped back, waving for her to go. Her allowance to leave encouraged me, and the syrup dripped on. Chelsea is the all important Halloween party house, and she was let go. Camille is the tireless chauffeur from school, Maria offers to help pay, a first for her, Erik buys lovely birthday presents each year; their three men stepped aside. Rachel is so patient with annoying people, Karolina gives great massages, Daniela is so generous with her house and food; three more men stepped aside. Alisa is never at a loss for amusing words, Galen lent his coat and turned out not to be messing with people's minds, after all, Chris lost a bunch of ego; three more. The last three.

The tower had looked much bigger than it was, now that everybody had scurried off down the stairs and all that was left was me and twelve gray men and the bright blue world closing down on me. The gray men and their eyes and the blue world looked at me, all of it blinking its giant blue eye at me, questioningly. I swallowed. The syrupy throat was back, the need to spit it all out, but I didn't dare, this giant blue eye blinking and blinking. The gray men came closer; I was out of shoes/scales/anything to defend myself, so they picked me up and, almost too gently, dropped me out of the tower window.

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