Posted by: normanlgreen | October 20, 2011

Dream, October 20 2011 bountiful spiders, pillow fruit, sponsored funeral

Dream, home, 7:34 am

Heading toward a funeral, passing through empty lots between buildings, people take trails and follow a Sasquatch without realizing it. Only I seem to see the Bigfoot creatures, who act as civil servants, maintaining the trail system throughout the city.  They simply run the trails, beating down the grass so that the oblivious human population has clearly defined trails.   As I approach the clearing where the funeral is to be held, I realize I do not know the deceased.

I walk in at the end of a story: “she said, ‘take off your jacket you glorious hunk of man.’ I don’t understand all of the implications, but clearly she can recognize a jacket.”

In the clearing (which almost feels like the inside of a building, but isn’t) the funeral attendants include a line of slightly heavy business men in nearly identical dark suits – no one seems to know the corpse– consult crib notes as they eulogize the deceased.  All the men are under-informed, to the point they look like well-dressed lobotomy patients. While the women, in their tailored dresses, say nothing, but seem to know all – wear manipulative smiles. At last the coffin is carried in on the shoulders of six men.  The casket has been draped with a silky lavender cloth with green lettering that advertises a major brand of dry cat food.

I leave.  Returning by the trails, I realize that only the children know that Bigfoot makes it possible to get around town (as they lope along, the sasquatch chant: “keeping the trails clear – keeping the trails clear”) I catch glimpses of two huge black-furred creatures passing each other through vacant lots where buildings have been removed. Outcropping of old foundations show where stores and houses once stood.

Back at the guest house, repacking the trinkets of the host woman who hails from Eastern Europe. I replace items into the old chocolate box one inch tall, seven across and four deep. As I close the lid the box, I find there is room for more photos and ribbons and ticket stubs, so open it to re-pack the last few items inside before leaving the house where I have been a silly and disruptive guest.

Walking with Sherwin and Keats through an unfamiliar town. Sherwin steps under the overpass.  I follow, sliding down the concrete — do not trust my sense of balance.  After a few yards, I have to step onto the strong twisted vines of a melon and squash garden.  Stepping across the bountiful vegetable patch, I have to avoid crushing a spider as big and black as an 8-ball.  I mention her roundness – of course, it is almost harvest time, so the spiders are big with eggs.  Bouncing onto the last of the series of melon patches, the fruit are big and inflated — think of them as air pillow fruit. Keaton stops me from playing too hard on this strange surface.  He points toward the man who has the vegetable stand at the bottom. I grab my own shirt and lift myself up and lower myself to the ground (like a sky hook — anti-gravity trick) to show how light I am. He smiles– big man in overhauls.  Welcomes all comers to the garden.


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