Dream of: 25 November 1990 "Tears In The Wind"
I was in the Fort Worth Rock House, talking on the phone with Richhart, who began asking me questions about my law practice, such as when I was in Dallas and when I was in Fort Worth. Richhart had been sending me quite a few bankruptcy clients lately, and in fact he had been sending me so many, I had just about quit trying to get clients from anyone else but him, but I didn't want him to know that. He wanted to know if I ever came to Dallas any more on Friday's, or whether I simply let Alcorn (another attorney who had been working for me in Dallas) handle my Dallas appointments. Richhart's voice was soft and friendly, and he seemed quite friendly. I knew it was important that I show to him that the clients he sent me were being properly handled. I told him that on Friday's I generally stayed in Fort Worth and handled any clients he sent to Fort Worth, while Alcorn handled all the Dallas clients on Friday. I wanted to tell him I was thinking of moving to a location between Dallas and Fort Worth, perhaps to Arlington, but since I was still unsure when I was going to do that, I didn't bring it up.
I was driving from Fort Worth to Dallas, and I had already traveled almost all the way through Arlington, when I thought I might ought to begin looking for a place to live. I was thinking it was much more difficult looking for a new office, since I would have to move all my office furniture, as well as change my business address. But it seemed as if it were time to begin.
To my right I saw a sign which said "12" and I new that was Highway 12. That meant I must already be in Dallas County, and I would have preferred to have stayed in Tarrant County. Before I reached the turnoff for Highway 12, I saw a large complex of apartments on my right and turned into it. I was impressed that I was able so easily to turn into the apartments straight from the road. That would certainly mean I would have quick access to the main highway if I were living there.
All the apartments seemed to have many windows through which I could see inside. I was uncertain that the apartments were occupied, although they all looked neat and clean. Perhaps this apartment complex had been closed down for some reason. I did see some potted plants growing in some apartments.
I was standing in the office where the apartments were rented. As I looked around, I was surprised to see sitting on the floor acollage which I had recently made. I remembered I hadn't particularly liked the collage and I had sold it at a yard sale shortly before. It certainly seemed strange now to find it here. Apparently noticing that I was looking at the collage, a man (probably in his mid 30s) walked up, picked up the collage and handed it to me. It was on cardboard and about 20 centimeters in height and 15 centimeters in width. On the bottom right side was a large blue area, and in the middle of the top was a picture of the painter Vincent Van Gogh. In the middle of the top of his head, a wedge had been taken out, as if someone had cleaved open his head.
I turned to the man (about the same size as I) and I said, "I made that."
He seemed as surprised as I, but he didn't say anything. He pulled out a much larger collage and showed me. I was likewise surprised to see that this was also a collage which I had done. It was about a meter high and a half meter wide. I had created the collage about a year before, but I didn't remembered having ever parted with it. So it seemed very strange indeed that he should have it. It likewise was on cardboard. I examined it closely and saw that someone had written something on it in blue ink. At the top of the collage was a picture of a face and also a picture of another face at the bottom. Someone had added some tears in the eyes on the faces and had also added some tears being blown from the faces as if they were in the wind. Next to the tears some words had been written in blue ink.
I also noticed an address label pasted on the collage in the upper left corner. It said "CHRIS COLLIER." But the "R" in Chris was turned around backwards. I told the fellowChris had been my brother. I almost felt like crying when I saw the name.
I asked the fellow where he had gotten the collage, but he only smiled. Although he wouldn't say anything, I had the feeling he had come by it honestly.
He showed me a colored picture which looked as if it had been cut from a newspaper. Apparently he wanted to know if had made it also, and I quickly told him I hadn't.
He wanted me to sign the collages. He handed me a pen which wrote with red ink and bade me sign the large collage. I looked at the lower right corner and saw a word already written there. It was obviously a Russian word, and had a backwards R in it. I began signing my name to the left of the word. But as I wrote the pen crumpled as if it were an empty straw. Yet I kept writing until I finally succeed in writing my name.
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