Last night I dreamed.
The Professor had returned to California to attend a Socialist convention/rally/protest? and I was staying with my mother (who has been dead a year and a half now) watching television and worrying about him. An insurrection occurred, and The Prof was leading the Socialists into battle, riding a big black horse and waving a Civil War style rapier high over his head. The rapier was so silver it was white, and blindingly bright.
Of course, a la Indiana Jones, the saber was no match for a gun, and the Prof was the first casualty of the war. It was reported on the television news. I had the television and the radio on, waiting for news of the battle, and I learned that way. I told my mother that The Prof was dead, and she asked "Did you even love him?" I told her "no".
She then told me she wanted me to go out and purchase a CD for her. I went back of the house down to the creek to buy the CD. There was a wooden stairway, rather elaborate, with railings and a platform, that I'd never seen there before. I used that to get down the bank to the creek, and then jumped in the water and started walking/floating down the creek. The water was crystal clear, and I was scanning the creek bed under my feet looking for her CD.
I drifted down as far as the foot bridge that a neighbor had built when the creek widened to a deep pool. There were overweight people (I got the impression they were retirees) in too tight bathing suits using the creek as a spa.
Then The Professor came to bed and I woke up. No more meatloaf before dinner for this chick.
Magnetic Poetry Creation of the Morning
the glass knife does not free
the prisoner from the lake
liquid storm surrounds her still
and leaves her yet to ache.
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