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In the dream, in the last unraveling cotton candy wisps of a night full of pheno-B dreams, I was looking as a check written out to me. I was squinting at some very small writing in the note like in the bottom left corner. The signer of the check was one Abby - something, a lively Australian raised American girl I one met on a flight out of Albuquerque (more on Abby later -- maybe). The tiny writing in the note like area mentioned the names of two poems or poetry books as a reason for the check. Then something more that I was struggling to read when I was rudely ripped from sleep by an ear-buzzing fly. The fly: my greatest nemesis here in Maine. The stupid house flies her in the trailer. Worst of all those damn stinging flies that fly demonic halos around the head until setting down to bite! Gonna have to learn to be more and more succinb I think, that to this
damn hard and mean little poison-filled sadistic arachnid that no doubt
stung me in my sleep, sent by satin himself for to cripple my writing
hand. I have a forearm just at the tip of the dagger tattoo to prove it.
Anyway, dream, Abby wrote this check for a couple of books whose titles
I don't even recognize and filled the notes area with tiny little phrases
of adoration and love, sweet nothings, as it were. It was a nice dream,
and I interpret it to mean both money and love are on their way down the
pipeline to me from the deep nether regions of possible and potential
could-be-will-be beautiful tomorrows. I wish you all sweet dreams -- RSM
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