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A bunch of dreams, and then some more dreams. Dreams within dreams. Is life itself a dream? Why are these all called Dreamscapes, anyway? Who are we and where do we come from?

Dreams i (20/26)

June 25, 1997

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A nice day – another in a fine series of similar with stellar weather. On the bus, I realize that we passed 73rd St, and are now stopping 1 block south. I disembark. The driver, who knows me, is apologetic, saying that if it weren’t so busy he would reverse or go around the block to take me home. But it’s a nice day and walking 2 blocks, or 1.5 doesn’t seem unreasonable. As I leave the bus I notice a man coming toward me, walking with determination, wearing a suit jacket and boxer shorts over flannel long underwear. Startled, I manage to avoid him. Already, off balance, plus partially turned to further study his odd attire, I nearly stumble upon a crouching woman. She has a plastic bag in one hand. At the same moment I notice a big smear of shit on the sidewalk, and also the fact that I had very nearly trodden upon a long, luxurious-looking overcoat. My feet, in fact, are very nearly on the hem of it. I make a great effort to redirect, to not step on it, but I’m in such a position of off-balancedness that I can only manage to stand, frozen, teetering. It’s all I can do not to lurch forward and place one of my shoes directly into the satin lining of the overcoat. Eventually I get my balance and avoid the coat, the shit, the woman who, I now understood, was responsible for the dog that had caused the shit, had caused the consternation in the strangely-dressed man who had not only dropped his overcoat but also his suit pants and his suspenders (all of which are mixed into the strewn garments on the sidewalk) and stomped some distance away, presumably to scrape his shoes on the edge of the sidewalk. The expression of the woman’s face was slightly lunatic, bright-eyed with delight for my reaction; but also held a degree of chagrin and resignation. It was apologetic but also said – “Look, what am I to do?  This is New York.  Dogs shit on the sidewalks.”  In any case, my curiosity peaked, I rounded the corner onto 73rd St. and looked back, through the double panes of plate glass in the corner store, to see what would happen next.  

At this point, however, I also realized that I was on the East side, not the West side as I had thought, and had a much further walk home than I had originally anticipated.

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