"And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be? ... You'd be nowhere. Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream! If that there King was to wake you'd go out -- bang! -- just like a candle!"
"Hush! You'll be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise."
"Well it's no use your talking about waking him when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not real."
Roswell, New Mexico
But change how? Imperceptibly at first, a kind of denial. A kind of dream. Then the decision to sanctify time. Then a harder look at logistics, none of it pretty, but yes: possible. To accept it. Perhaps to embrace it, with help. But not to endure it nor to struggle--those realities are hidden from me in the secret unfolding of matter in time. What body is. I don't know what comes next. The last five hundred miles, desert, and just now: sunrise.***
"and what is the use of a book...without pictures or conversations?"
[contact me: ghostwordeffigy@yahoo.com]
