Dream of: 12 March 1977 "Revolution In Writing"

I was in an apartment (near where I lived) which reminded me of an apartment in Mexico City which belonged to a fellow I had met named Oscar. Oscar wasn't in the apartment, but Paul (the older brother of Steve Weinstein, my good friend from my high school and college days in Portsmouth, Ohio) was there, and Paul reminded me of Oscar. Also in the apartment was a young lady about my age who somewhat reminded me of Porginski (an attractive blonde who had been a year younger than I at high school in Portsmouth).

Although I really didn't know the woman, I had been with her once before, and on that previous occasion I had told her about how I recorded my dreams and how I wanted to turn them into a book. In the intervening time since I had talked with her, she had decided to write a book of her own along the same format. Apparently she had begun writing her dreams, but was having trouble putting the material together and she asked me for help. At first the word "plagiarism" slipped through my mind, but the word quickly slipped away, and I decided to help her.

I decided to show her the first dream I had written for my book and I began looking about the room for my notebook. After locating the notebook, I searched through it for my dream, which I had trouble locating, but finally found. Instead of being written in normal form, the dream resembled the shape of a line puzzle, the type of tracing puzzle where one begins at one point and traces a line through a maze to reach another point. The maze consisted of the words of my dream tightly pressed together in all sorts of convolutions.

Although the words were difficult to follow, I was nevertheless able to begin reading the dream. I soon realized the dream wasn't the first one I had written for my book. I looked at the date of the dream and saw it was dated January 1974. I then knew the notebook I was holding was an older one in which I had written some of my earlier dreams. This was not the dream for which I was searching.

I searched for the new notebook I had bought a few days earlier and in which I had been recording my dreams. After I found the new notebook, I looked up the first dream along with my accompanying introduction to the dream. After finding the dream, I read it to the woman.

After she had heard the dream, the woman asked me to accompany her to her place to help her with her dreams. I agreed to go, but I was apprehensive. I thought if she were to succeed in her venture and publish her book before I, she would be the one to receive credit for the new format of writing. Since I had never read or heard of such a book, I was under the impression that the book would prove to incite a revolution in writing.

Paul, in the meantime, had been reading a book. Apparently now he had some pornography in his hands and had become quite aroused. He wanted to go into the bathroom and, as he said, "relieve himself." I protested that he should accompany us. When he remained adamant in his desire, we decided to leave without him.

Before we left, however, the young lady stood across the room from me and again asked me whether I was sure I wanted to help her. I looked at her and became absorbed in her beauty. I caressed her whole body with my eyes. Almost hypnotically I responded that I could refuse her nothing. I began to think if she succeeded with her book, the juxtaposition of male and female views could prove beautiful.

As we stepped outside, I was still thinking of the new development the work could lend to literature and I wondered if the development would be significant or inconsequential.

Outside, peculiar phenomena immediately began to happen. First I felt a surge of something within my body and I spat heftily on the pant's leg of someone standing near me. Then I spat several times on the ground. The spit looked more like sperm than spit. I stuck my fingers in it.

I heard many voices in chorus chanting, droning like Tibetan monks. I slipped into a different state. I saw only visions cascading one over the other and I vaguely thought I was dreaming. Among the things I saw was a large statue of a man with one hand outstretched, astride a large white horse. The image seemed endowed with energy and was vibrating.

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