October 13, 2006
The eleventh dream: In the barn. In the hayloft. It's Gearhart's barn. I've been in here a hundred times. But the hayloft is turned around, running north and south instead of east and west. I can feel the stiff stubble from the hay, smell the dust off it. It is daylight, then dark, then daylight as if someone were flashing the lights on and off. The switching moves so quickly that stars are caught in the daylight. A gorilla is stuffing me into a drainpipe with a long pole. He works methodically, and I am a tight fit.