Dreams

I'm dreaming again.

It happened last moon cycle, too. I woke up at 6:39 this morning to the traffic on Goldsborough, barely squinted through one eye at the clock and sighed and covered myself up deep under the covers and was out again almost immediately--but fell asleep with this light, laughing sense remembering the dream I'd just had. A bonfire with old friends from Catholic school in the rubble driveway in the woods at Ocean Pines. It was very pagan.

Then I had a second one, with my brother in it and Jamie, his girl. There were turtles, big ones, they were happy for the snow wanted us to see they were still there but scrambled over this funny scrappy wall Sean made and was proud of, of wood posts cross-hatched and leveled in this very crafty way. The turtles made sure we saw there big bodies flop over the wall. On the other side of the wood wall the turtles covered them selves in leaves. You could still see them, but at the base of the fense the snow had melted, the soil was super moist and the leaves generated enough heat to act as a thermal for them and they were happy to be covered there. The leaves and snow, the cycles, it all was a good thing.

There are bluberry muffins in the oven, I am squeaky body-tired and my consciousness is hairy, lots of little crevices in there where I've been slipping all day. Some days are just like that. Some days I miss things, I am tired, I get full of doubt. I have to work at noon today and then tonight and it will be all new students new students new students Hi dont be nervous You can do it Relax relax it's not a test it's so we can help and also Bienvenido hola, he-llo. Ugh I am so tired--and I was off for the snow a full week last week!! I will come home tonight, hopefully before 10, then Erika and I have a phone date to discuss our latest submissions to each other.

Erika, who just got the best news news that made me smile smile smile, Erika who on days like these makes me swoon to remember 7th grade Catholic school in the mildew basement where we could see people's feet on the concrete parking lot out the vented windows near the ceilings top of some of those rooms. Sr. Francis's class and we were all afraid, Ms. Fouse's class and under the desks Erika's long scrawl, on fringed loose leaf, characters even then seeped deep in the history of another time. My precious friend who holds roots in there, the way plants and trees are connected deep under ground in ways we will never, by the light of day, ever see.

O mama if I could I would write and laugh and cook all day breathe the smells of your frozen earth my face in the tall window here in your sun. I would smile, happy to remember all my dreams. I would talk to the maple tree let the crevices inside grow wide and whole until they weren't cracks anymore but simply whole new landscapes of me.

what i am listening to: The High Strung