Friday, November 19, 2004

A large estate, sloped ground, structures I don't calculate into my dreamspace (remember I have poor visusal memory so keep my dreams vague with cheap sets like high school plays) - I cannot find Scoob again. There are other hounds bounding around, but I don't see him.

Then he appears at my side.

We arrive in a villa, like on the Mediterranean, and Reloj says, I'll go move the plane to the point. He heads off down a sloped street. It's just a minor adjustment to our progress, like stopping for coffee.

But I know it's final. I go after him, but with no real urgency, as if chasing fate, or closing out the final minutes of a losing game.

There is a residential cul-de-sac resembling those in Northern California. I know one of the paths goes down to the seacoast, so I move about, although there are no signs of access. Around a fence and a circular hedge, there is a path. I take it, but it dissolves...

But now I'm leaving. I am very sad. Someone comes up to hug me, but it seems not at all sincere. She is brunette and slender. Now I'm sitting in an outdoor auditorium seat a little further on down the road, and another comes. I must shift over a seat to allow her to join me. She is Rubenesque and pretty, blonde, and she is crying.

Just the sad renderings of too late blues, striking the set after another unsuccessful run in Boise...

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