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Dreamed 1983/11/5 by 'Beryl' and Wayan (parallel dreams)


Jennifer lost that bet with her best
Friend, who sighs "You're dead
And can't sign checks, so why
Not pay off our wager, Jen, by
Haunting our co-op Victorian

The deal works out quite well: the ghost
girl's a star. You've seen her show
"Jennifer Slept Here." Ho ho

I wake in a nonprofit. A girl like Jen
Lounges nude on the old couch. (Why, anyone
Can ogle in, so I close the Venetian blinds.)
"Couldja open the blinds?" she whines. Hung
Over? I bare the glare of eyes and sun.
She grinds "Couldja close those blinds?"
The blinds groan too. I suppress my own
Moan. Sexiest of grouches, she squirms

Wake again! I clean backstage at Psychodrama--worn
Pillows, limp swords, old monsters. Corroded throne.
Bald Tom, drape-propped. A spare Tom. Three, four!
Were he a puppetry all along? His ex-lover Beryl & I
Argue where to stash the glut of zombish Toms...

A truck arrives. "Delivery!" So I sign. (No more
Toms, hopefully.) Grandma's effects! Hand-
lace in damp leaf mold. Left, it'll rot for sure.
Pull and clean it dutifully. Below, howling yellow
Blanket. Deft, I peel banana weft. Hello
Grandma, dead beneath. A mobile grave!
My dad glums in, and coffinloots to save
Mute carving of a monkey that she made.

Serene dream-coda! Wake again, to hike
The silver woods; serendipitously meet
A lovely lynx. So calm. Delight.
Tufted ears just like the horns
Of excellent owl. Her felicitous
Sweet face, not ghouly moans
Concludes tonight's dream-

Please come and dream again...
As if evade you ever can!
Admittedly a rather ominous


Later that day, Beryl visits and tells a dream, unexpectedly.


I cleaned Prometheus Theater. As I
reached the prop room, a gypsy sol-
idified centerstage. The Spirit of Psy-
chodrama! A wisdom-figure pendant she wore:

Reindeer folk browse the rug. A friend urged "Go
greet them!" I tried, but the tundra-carpet stage
turned kitchen. Vic, the director, stared at a coffin.
No corpse; a manhole, open. A ladder led on

Below, mystery: vast deep-green hall. No reve-
lations. So I started back, but Bag Lady, my
constant dreamguide, warned "Careful! Don't
go up there!" Up's now an empty school. I
climbed defiantly back toward light: a

image of Vic and his lover, kissing. At
the laddercrown I saw: "I'm the Bag
Lady now." Awkwardly I huffpuff in
to their lovescene. Vibe unwelcome,
but still, Vic unwelled me from
coffin. Pulled from


LISTS AND LINKS: ghosts - TV - nudity - frustration - psychodrama & theatre in general - living dolls - breakups - big cats - more dreams of Beryl - caves & the underworld - initiation(s) - animas & dream-guides - death - climbing - rescue, even if temporary - telepathy, premonitions & ESP in general - dream-poems - John Hollander's poem on parallel dreams: The Train

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