New year’s dream

Posted: 01/10/2011 in Uncategorized

Little more than a week ago I dreamed of a world full of doppelgangers of which I was the principal. The story, oddly, was a proverbial male-protagonist romance in which I competed with myself for my own affections (I lost)–but not exactly, because in Nietzsche-esque fashion each generation of doppelgangers was a degree removed from myself and thus in some small way not me. No, scratch that, nobody can be not someone else to a small degree. That’s the difference between an identical twin and a body double.

It was (a) a narcissistic dream, (b) the sensory enaction of a very real clash of competing personae, (c) you’re so composed today, M. Shaw, (d) the beginning of a trend. In the days since, sex has occupied a more and more central role in my dreams, trending toward exclusivity. Odd because I don’t know on which side of these exchanges to place myself and anyway I haven’t dreamed about sex in almost longer than I’ve been alive*. Maybe it means I’m dying. That would almost be preferable; the advent of sexuality leaves one with so many decisions to make puzzles to solve.

Sometimes in the morning it takes hours after waking up to convince myself this is the real world. That’s happened before, but not since very early on. I drink Sumatran coffee because it tastes like dirt, in a good way.

When you live in a room with no heat the clothes you wear to bed are like armor, and securing yourself for the night is like packing yourself in dirt, or maybe snow. Burying, anyway. Buried till morning.

Things to do. I’m running out of clothes although I’ve just done laundry. Make more.

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