I dreamt about —– last night. Hard to tell what this means. In the dream our families were living in this apt bldg/hotel next door to each other, or with each other. Which is which is hard to tell. There was little separation between the families. Flimsy partitions and openings. Door with holes in them. I think we were both having trouble with our schoolwork, first her then me. Except that we were still ourselves, too, and still married. We kissed a lot. A few times, at first, and then more. It felt like it should have been more. Except for this tremendous sense of wrongness about it, too. I don’t know where that comes from.
In its fever you see the most perfectly impossible furniture: owls without heads turned into lamps; legless chairs; trees and alleys that go on to join roads and figures together. Bridges and outlets for Streetlamps, bumper-stickers, and all that shining bright sand. Beware of the snow. The snow sticks and sticks to you and there is no way to get it off. Not even if you dissolve your own skin.
When you leave you see a golden (wasp). And the wasp has its legs tucked under its wet beautiful wings and has just come out from a bush. So you know that it is a beautiful woman. And She’ll do anything. She has black eyes (and they are so wide and lustrous you think you should have to apologize for dreaming them). Sometimes it is a man. If it is a man it flies straight at you.
When you wake up there is no reason to wake up and nothing to wake up to, except the woman. You are the wasp and alone in the whole wide universe.