Monday, March 28, 2005

Dark hallways, crowded. I find my room. I am in charge of this room, although my duties are not prescribed. I am familiar with the job, just like the one at the county as a gamma minus civil servant, doing nothing really but performing well. This seems like a schoolroom. (In my dreams I'm often in unfamiliar territory and not acknowledging it like protagonists in scifi stories.)

Others are scattered in the room. There are lovers here, stragglers there. I say, I have to use my room, and they began shuffling out.

I must go to the office for my assignment. I do that, down a long U corridor. At the desk, it is very crowded.

A little guy is worried, but he shows bluff. I see him clearly, up close. He's a child forced to be a man. He says, it's $18,000 on it, and Ma doesn't know what to do. I lean closer to ask, "Is it a divorce?" and he throws it off with a sneer; "No, it's not a divorce."

I want to help him. What can I do. I say, I'm no lawyer, but I'll look at it for you. He seems agreeable to that. He is in profile to me, at the counter. His hair is long and oiled, like a very short adult. Just no time to be a kid. I really intend doing something. Sometimes I'm able to help. Probably some legal document the officials are always terrorizing civilians with.

Out the door is a train station, but it runs indoors like carts for the lame and lazy at the airport. Hey, I'll take it around to my room. I go out and enter the sliding door and it closes behind. There are lots of us just standing and the cars swoosh away.

I see out the window we've passed my room. There is no stop there. The terminus is in another quarter further on, and as I step out I realize I must make my way over strange terrain to find the room.

The conductor walks away from the engine car and someone follows and so do I. He must know the best way to go. Doors open ahead of him and he doesn't even lose pace, and neither do I nor the other guy.

The last door opens onto a control room. Banks of breaker boxes, cables. The two of them go right up to a box and begin fiddling and adjusting and discussing, while I stand there like an idiot.

I must again find my own way...

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