I was at some kind of reunion, I guess college but not exactly. It was a happy occasion. People kept drifting in & out of a building. Ron Silliman was there and he had a huge old red station wagon that he had driven there, out of which he pulled a copy of an early chapbook of mine, to show to others at the reunion. Its cover was not white, as it was in waking life, but brightly colored. Inside were all sorts of different materials and textures. It was beautiful. The poetry was very vispo--again, not the prose paragraphs that it actually was in waking life. It made me remember something that I’d forgotten for many years; that I had put this beautiful book together all by hand, in a very small edition, for my friends, when I was in college. Then only afterward did it become the white and (at least I felt in the dream) less interesting book it was in actuality, when it was printed in a larger edition. I was happy to see the rare old book, but jealous that he had a copy, because I had given my last copy away years and years ago. It was left on top of a table with a lot of stuff on it. I think someone later threw it away by mistake.