I'm in Golden Gate Park, walking across Stow Lake toward Strawberry Hill. No, I'm not Jesus, and the Hill's still an island in the middle of the lake... but the lake has seeped into another dimension. There's a ring of aqueous air where the water was. Ghost-fish swim by. A lodge with Elegant Ladies and Gentlemen fills part of the lake bed--it looks like the lodge that stood at the top of Strawberry Hill a century ago. Slipped down to the foot. Well, with that much time-slip, a little spatial slippage is no surprise.

I climb out of the ghost lake, by little paths up the hill. There's snow under the pines. Wow, snow in San Francisco! Makes it look Japanese...

My father waits in the main lodge at the top. But just as the lake's not exactly the lake, my dad's not exactly my dad--a taller, leaner old man with a long, long face. We mingle with the crowd--elegant, wealthy types. I know more of them than I expect; and to my surprise, they have a warmth my art-classes lacked. Many are sexy too.

The girl I like the most, a birdlike woman named Kyoko, suddenly discovers the ghost-fish's secret: how to become transparent as glass--to disappear! The doors are closed, so we know she's still among us. We grope, trying to catch her. I have mixed feelings--how can she feel our intentions are friendly when we try to pounce on her, catch her as if she's a fish? Yet she was so cute--I want to touch her and feel she's daring us to, teasing us by swimming through us, round and round, not leaving--if she wanted privacy she could slip out a door or window.

I look closer and closer. See a subtle distortion in the air, as if over a hot stove. Reach--and grab her ankle! A woman jumps and tackles her. We caught her! But now what? We plead with her to become visible again, come back to us, but she won't speak or materialize. Group debates what to do. Discussion gets so heated we forget to keep a tight hold on her and she escapes again! I feel sad--how can she see us as friendly now?

By finding her, I've lost her.

I don't recall the rest of the dream clearly, but it skewed into a big uproar about a chain-mail miniskirt. At first I thought it was just silver lamé, but it's true chain-mail--and not just armor but some kind of hi-tech weapon or tool. Its degree of power depends on how how sexy it is, which depends largely on how short you dare to wear it. Invisibility has its magic, but... how much of yourself do you dare to reveal? The smaller the skirt the bigger the power!

Less armor, more strength.

Mmmm, nothing symbolic THERE...

MORNING NOTES

• Kyoko = I read an old interview with John Lennon and Yoko Ono. Her daughter Kyoko (by a previous marriage) was jerked back and forth by her estranged parents--basically kidnapped! Lennon admits he got competitive with her ex-husband: "He can't do that! I'll hire detectives!" Kyoko and her dad were still hiding at the time of the interview; by then she was in her late teens. John used the interview to say "I'm sorry. It's safe to come out now..."
• So Kyoko = evading my parents' values and demands. Like Lennon, they're radical idealists, but pushy, and their values still dominate my life. I feel guilty and hide mere self-interest--hide my desires.
• Catching Kyoko = trying to drag my fears and desires out of hiding is not a way to show I love them now! Self-examination isn't always right.
• Metallic miniskirt = from Tina Turner's film What's Love got to Do with it? She's open about how she was battered and how she recovered. So the skirt means admitting I was battered as a kid, at school. Instead of hiding a la Kyoko.
• Power of the short skirt = the more I can bare myself (this weird self battered into shape) the more confident and sexy I'll be. Duh!

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