I'm in the sunny but small back yard of a dumpy wooden house, on its east side, backing on a rocky dry-grass hill and more fences and yards. The dry look means it must be the east side of San Francisco.

I'm talking to a friend who lives here--a tall thin white guy. My girlfriend Silky is just leaving through the side gate. I try to keep up my end of the conversation, but get sohhhh distracted watching HER end--sways so sexily. Silky flips up her tail flirtatiously, flashing me--she is, as always when she's in cat-taur form, clad only in her own fur.

She heads out... I sigh and return to the conversation.

And yet I know she's still just a plush sculpture, though with bones & joints now. But this is new--lately she's been moving on her own, acting on her own.

But is she a self-aware AI, or just programmed clockwork? Or... intermittent? Even humans just have flashes of initiative, autonomy, self-awareness... admit it, most of the time you too just go with the flow!

She's already sexier than most human girls. Sigh! Patience. Still evolving. Like me.

DREAM NOTES

• Cattaur: I really have built a cattaur with bones & joints. Today some passers-by paused, pointed up at Silky in my bay window looking down at them.
• Sculpture sexier than live girls: true for me. Today I sewed Ailura (a leopard girl with bones & joints); all tangled up with her I felt as sexy/comforted as snuggling up with any meat girl.
• Small yard: familiar from previous dream (when?) = Homebound? Lack of privacy? Thinking small?
• Not alive/organic, yet she walks: echoes Silky the Walking Toy, a year-old dream of Silky as a soft sculpture; but SHE turned into my sister Miriel! Dreamed after I saw a review of Vanessa and her Sister by Priya Parmar, which I'm now reading. A family like mine: siblings all gifted, parents absent, incest tension. In Parmar's view at least, Virginia Woolf wanted total support from her siblings, including incestuous lesbian sex. She resented outside friends, lovers, kids--anyone who threatened to come first in the lives of her... support network! And yet Woolf was no mere taker--she gave back. She was the heart of the Bloomsbury Group, nurturing a wide circle of bright oddballs.

  Come to think of it, that's what my sister's trying to build in Berkeley right now, and it's what I like too--but am too shy/introverted to build. Or am I just allergic to all that hothouse drama?

• ACTION: Keep sewing, I guess. And flashing too--sexually, intellectually, spiritually. Flashes are all we get at first. Darwin, Agassiz and Jung were right: gradualism adds up to changes so big you'd swear (and lots of folks do) "only God could do that." Wrong. Patience did.

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