dreams: February 6, 1999
I'm walking around with some friends. We're in an outdoor market with lots of crafts and booths. Koeby Johnson is with us. He somehow shoots/throws something that hits a large display of pottery. The shelves topple back and forth and then smash forward, everything shattering into little pieces. He laughs. I remember him doing this several times at earlier points that day.
Koeby's heartless destruction
fluid comfort with others
I'm rolling around on the floor with ___ (Yuka? a male Swattie who is Russian, with glasses, reddish hair, pale skin, a small body -- I've had dreams about him before, as if we're close friends). We are doing contact improv, intimately close, our bodies rolling over/around each other fluidly. We are having a conversation as we do it; it's some chat about a Swat political/social issue. The talk is matter of fact.
Then I'm talking to Nate Shaffran. It's a break in a "class" I'm taking (it's like a Daime work). I'm in the Swat scene. Nate asks me how it's going. I'm happy. Noli is here too. I walk across the room, blissed out. I float up above people's heads. The room is white, with white walls and ceilings and wooden beams. The ceiling is high. I float around the top.
- FIN -
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