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I had a dream about you.  You challenged me to a race and took off like the road-runner.  I tried to keep up and charged through the course lined with the ruined temple walls of impossible architecture.  And I got lost.  And I strayed into a garden where suspicious chimpanzees sat amongst tremendous flowers of tar and oil.  They didn’t like me at all.  And I found you again in the ruins.  There with everyone else and their smear-chalk faces.  But where did you get overalls?  And what happened to your shirt?

I had a dream about you.  We were sitting by the side of a river.  A nice water.  Under a tree, between tall grasses.  And you were teaching me to play the harp.  I didn’t know you played the harp.  Yours was a beautiful golden antique, and mine was a papier-mâché kidney bean with fat pink ribbon strung across it.  Always out of tune.  And I am a terrible student.

I had a dream about you.  And everyone else was there too.  With their overnight bags and sleeping bags and bags of indeterminate use.  The whole university squeezed into the union.  And I try to gather us out of the crowd like herding cats.  We needed to register for something, but all the rooms are booked.  Then you show me I’m an aunt now, we’re all delighted.  And your son is beautiful, but huge.  Thirteen pounds at least.

And I had a dream about you.  Me and mental extras were standing in the barn.  We watched the sun set through weathered slats.  And you showed up.  Walked right up to me, picked me up, and threw me down the stairs.  I fell in the slowest motion.  And I was so angry at you for trying to kill me.  But I landed softly in a heap of basement dwelling boxes.  And everyone else was there too.  They said ‘good thing, because of the tornado.’  A tornado.  So I couldn’t be angry at you anymore.  And everyone hunkered down to sleep, and I laid my head on your chest because you saved me.

The room is dark when I wake up, and I see that none of you are here.  Else I’d tell you right away of all our mad adventures.  But I’ll see you all in the morning, or tomorrow, or a week.  So I lay back down to sleep, composing and arranging the very best way to tell you.  About the dream I had.  About you.