dream — (07.16.2003)
text by Austin Pick
In a dream I've come out to visit this very special girl at her family's mansion. It's hill country, rolling Mediterranean terra cotta and tile-bricked house tops sloping sunny, glittering sugary glaze of distant horizon, sea and sky whispering to one another, tall palms parading nodding in silent appraisal approval, the hum of dry heat, the temperature itself is prime real estate, the land the villages waft seamless celebrating one another a train a tram a seductive curve of singing gray highway, freeway — a bird's call a balmy moon when night comes on like a sweet inhale, face lost in a lover's hair, lavender pastures... and the mansion down in a deep valley lying hidden beyond impossible ravines, a bead a shimmering crystalline diamond nestled in a curl and perfumed cloak of graceful tree and fern, a palace without straight line or angle, at once elven and modern, all curve and arch lighted glowing radiant open air, terraced pools rippling and sparkling, glassy, endless, bejeweled, intoxicating — everyone wafts around as if in a trance, absently stroking the delicate necks of glasses that open like flowers and shimmer with imploring nectars, they sip as if drinking clouds, and perhaps they are... everyone wafts around, indistinct, ephemeral, dreamy and graceful, and she is among them, she moves with them talking to relatives and friends as if performing a dance written on the after-thought of an ocean current, dreamy too and graceful yes but to me at least she stands in relief, more full and more existentially supple, as if filled with a more real aspect of the same grace in new dimension... I watch her through the arches as I hover in the pool, dripping and curved a little wrongly it seems or perhaps just mesmerized, and there is a current between us, possessed of an entirely different vitality, unknown even to itself, palpable and breathless... do we meet later, do we find each other in the dawn? I can't remember, suddenly its bright daylight again and I'm out among the villages down on the strip to pick something up perhaps, then atop the hill everything rolling out below me, I'm due back we're to meet and so I catch the train, but it gathers momentum too slowly, as if preparing for a longer track... I find I've gotten on the wrong train, and talking to the person sitting in front of me I learn this train I'm on must go way out in a great big circuit before coming back through and down into her valley... it's the wrong train but maybe it's the right train, I feel no anxiety or hopelessness or regret, only a resigned acceptance of the wider curve... long roads I've got to walk alone a while longer yet, wide circuits on anonymous trains and the clacka clack of closet skeletons rattling in the empty mind, golden glitter buzz the black emperor blues of transience and the long gone calm...