Wednesday, September 14, 2005
I am running along a dirt road which is a loop to a mountain two-lane blacktop. I am chasing another vehicle. I don't know if I've awakened into my dream (Reloj once wrote of wakening from a nap during the night on a street of Mexico DF running at full tilt after someone who had lifted his wallet) or this is as far back as I can ravel from sleep come dawn.
But I realize finally, I'm chasing a vehicle on foot. I'll need my own auto if I'm gonna catch up. I must retrace my steps to where I parked my ride.
Someone is inside it. There is standing room, as if it's a large panel truck. He is very unconcerned, going through a drawer as I approach and make get-out noise. He is utterly unperturbed. Which of us is right? I think, this is a handy time to flash a pistol, but I have no weapon. But I must continue the chase, so I fire up the engine and head on down the road, with the interloper a passenger. He doesn't mind. It's all the same to him.
I accumulate riders; family, friends now. We must split up. Here is one ride; there another. I think, this puts the invader guy with one of my friends, alone, and I don't know this guy.
As we head out in our vehicle, one asks, "How long has he been working at Microsoft?" I have no idea; I don't know anything about him. I didn't know where he works, and say so. But this biographical data renders the guy less mysterious anyway.
In my mind all during the chase, I do not even conceive of a `why?'