I wake up and something feels amiss.

I walk out to the living room and see through the window of the front door a plush orange and black spotted-is it a bobcat, mountain lion?-arch its torso up to the window and slightly thrust its body forward, showing me itself It must have run away-I think I saw it join and prowl with other cats as I walk up to the front door and open it This is Barrytown-varying levels of dug up ground, messy thick wet dirt crumbling rising and falling into substantial abysses the Barrytown folk, who are very gentile, possibly Victorian, upright torsos, chins in the air, parasols, coattails, walk along the treacherous terrain as if it was a paved city street, without wild cats, without abysses-I shout to the folk from my doorstep in a strained British accent- "Good day my lady!" I see a woman with tri-pronged pearl earrings strolling along-"Wonderful day for a walk isn't it?"

I go back into my house and a youngish cutesy woman is sitting in my living room. Right away I ask her-"Do you time travel?" She giggles and says something to the effect of-"Of course!" I ask her-"How?" She says, "by onomatopoeic potatoes" Then she picks up one of several pieces of white paper I have written words on, and the one she picks up says "Travel together" She smiles, slightly in awe, but knowingly understands the message, and she is happy

My father said,
"When 13 opens to 83
you will round a bend
and realize how lucky you are"

With machetes, we surprise attack another alien species in a sterile
white room that oscillates into being a news report of a battlefield,
and the white room.

As we are shooting, I am wondering why we are.

Suddenly I re-enter the white room. The alien species and the ones
with me who attacked them are all sitting there, casually, hanging
out, watching a movie on a big screen, no traces of warfare or the
slightest hint of enmity.

I am walking/floating with a group across a hillside that slopes down to an ocean-a soft breeze blowing very green and layered with small white flowers. One person says excitedly, "Look those flowers are shaped like bells!" I realize we are in Ireland. I see in my mind in the dream a flag blowing with "California" written in cursive on it and I think-I love California after being to every other place in the world. We are now at the bottom of the cliff, at the shore of the ocean. I am with a woman who is a tour guide, we are being hurried to leave because we have to get to the airport, but we stand there and look up at what is called The Great Tree, a massive tree set into the cliff, a trunk with long pieces of bark that have fallen off leaving spaces it appears for you to walk inside. She is telling me about the tree, and I hold up a photograph I have with me against the sight of the tree, like you would hold your thumb up against the moon. The picture is of a dark greyish green sculpture of the back of a woman sitting at the top of long steps in a public place-the most prominent feature of the photograph is the buttocks of the sculpture poised in the position she is in sitting very straight. We walk back up the hillside/cliff and she, the tour guide, walks into a cave on the side of the cliff a group of people are huddled in laughing welcoming her in and I without a doubt part from her and continue walking upwards.