Morning.
I'm emerging from a dream.
The cat jumps over me, onto
me, into my arms,
happy because the change
in the rhythm of my breathing translates to a full food bowl,
but my thoughts are filled
with fresh memories and in my auditory cortex there is still ringing of the
Grandson's interpretation of the Haile Selassie's address to the United Nations in 1963.
In the dream, I
remember... that I am aware it is a dream and I'm letting the dream flow, for
hours! Dream - that ersatz life, un-real, un-actual, but I WANT it to flow and
I permit it for my thoughts and my arms and my heart.
In a dream,
I encounter him again
after a long time, in the circumstances no less unpleasant and prickly than
reality, with all his wonderful flamboyant uniqueness
And silence.
In the dream there is no
silence, in the dream there is civility and cooperation,
No differences to patch,
just the open undeclared partnership;
and it is hard to
overstate my satisfaction.
It is strange and magnificent
How much a person can be
made happy by means of one's own neural substrate,
And stranger and more magnificent still
