8 October 21
Donna, myself and some friends had gone to an island near the neighborhood to explore and ride our bikes. Mine was like a stingray with a “banana” seat and chopper handlebars. We had to swim to it to get there. People had told us we shouldn’t go because “they”. Had poisoned it.
Some parts the trees were sparse and bare, perhaps dead. We had fun jumping in the water. The current was a little strong. I reminded me of the Mekong, muddy.
We decided it was time to go back so I jumped in and thought, no, I’d rather drive in on my bike so I went to the top of the hill and built up speed to launch off the bank into the water on my bike. It was fun. I held the bike between my legs as I paddled back across toward the other side.
Soon I was floating on my back, doing the backstroke, up the street of the neighborhood of old homes.
Some people on a wooden house porch giggled at me as I went by. My big belly was sticking up as I paddled along. My ponytail was knocking along against the ground. That’s when I realized I was floating along but there was no water.
I noticed a big oversized sculptured bench with decaying sculptures of angels and people and said, “oh! I remember that!” And then I saw a house with huge windows and a giant mobile of odd shapes that look like rolled pieces of ‘playdo’ inside. The house, the sculpted, the mobile, all made from decaying cement pocked and weathered and some occasion vines growing.
As I was passing another house, still paddling along on my back, I say a girl that I recognized from ‘before’ sitting on her porch holding a swaddled baby vulture. It didn’t’t have a lot of feathers. I got up and said “Hello, do you remember me?”
She looked at me, tilting her head while recollecting and said, “Yes, I do. Where’s your wife?”
I said, “She’ll be along any minute. We were out on the island exploring.”
“That’s not a good place to be after they poisoned it” she said.
I walked up on the porch and she invited me in. Her wife was sitting down in their sunken living room. They offered me something to drink. “Water is fine” I said
The girl had put the vulture down and was now fishing an album out of a stack. The hole for the spindle was chipped and broken but not enough to displace its position on the record player. I remembered that she is a classical composer and arranger. The music she put on was one of my piano pieces as done in orchestration. She said she liked this one.
I thought to myself that I need to record this again now that the sounds are better in my program.
I woke up.