A community of people that I love, friends from far away and near. Every social interaction is a dance, not metaphorically but literally, we cross a hallway in metred dance, steps and dos-see-dos, cross-sectioned waltz. Elaborate bouffant hairdos and skirts with whalebone forms.
In a room with X and Y, again I fall asleep within the dream (suspect Inception is to blame for this recurrence). Pure exhaustion, unable to keep my eyes open, sun burns through the walls in blasted tiring light, there is no heat. X is trying to convince Y that I'm okay, that I'm good, harmless, but Y is suspicious. I wake to provide advice about outfits, events, make recommendations, sew on sequins, smile. Y comes around, smiles in turn, they go off to one of the millions of balls, shiny masked carnival. I retire to my room, happily, my dun coloured plain dress folded on my bed, softest of the softest cotton, my bed whitened, bleached sheets, hills of duvet.
I'm only a tinge sad to miss the party, more grateful for the softness of my invisibility, the plainness of my outfit, the wonderful anonymity, privacy, safety. Go to sleep in the dream, smiling. Smell of clean linen, spring breeze, bleach.
Wake up in Ottawa: not smiling. Dislike when my dreams try to resolve things too cleanly, come to neat resolutions that can never happen. Dream too vividly and I wake confused.
Reflections on publicity
1 week ago