not till we are lost

the ink is black, the page is white

variations of black and white

when white meets black

some grays

blackened

cold hard black.

I wrote you a letter.

beauty of black and silver,

charcoal and graphite.

I’m walking the night

making a statement.

finding it hard to believe

dark leads to light—

break it to me gently

I do.

are we?

—something dramatic like that.

everybody was so young!

berry stained lips

they fall hard

I like to imagine their dreams,

share their passions.

welcome home, Persephone;

the dark is too hard to beat.

sometimes I still need you.

in the morning

it’s hard to wake up

the first days are so hard

Black mood

dark thinkings

that final disappointment

blackened by grief

chiaroscuro

morning after dark

a life well lived

well written

possibly the best dream ever

Jesus (who was kind of small and scrawny but only sometimes) had a sidekick named Watson.

Why have I never thought of this before?

Don't steal my idea, people. Way not cool. Supersleuth Jesus and Supersidekick Watson will hunt you down. With Chuck Norris. Who is probably watching you right now.

Think of it: The Casebook of Jesus and Watson.

1. The Curious Case of the Fishes and Loaves

"But, Jesus, how did you do it?"

"Elementary, Watson. I merely rearranged the laws of matter and physics to create more matter out of some matter. You know my methods."

"When you explain it that way, Jesus, it all seems so simple, and yet I am sure I couldn't do it."

prickles and you don't let anyone get close to you

Tuesday October 12
1:47 am
dream

I just recently awoke from a dream. Cat decided to chase after a python which had slithered 87 feet up a tree [actually, I think it was a wall and a tree]. Cat fell out of the tree and snapped his neck. Intense grief woke me up. In my dream the tears came so thick and fast--tears piled on tears before any even fell. If I could have formed other thoughts, I would have worried that I might drown or choke on tears. I sobbed in a great howling wail. I didn't even hear myself making sound. Felt rather than heard the wail which, looking back, didn't even feel or sound real.

And the pain! A column of pain from my neck to my belly. Squeezing, suffocating pain. Even now [I woke up and wrote this a few minutes after having the dream], I've lost the depth and reality of the pain and it is only a memory of a dream.

That's what I felt for my cat in a dream. I have never felt grief over any human person's death. What if I never do?

productive night

I dreamt last night about some sort of sea monster/subterranean machine - not sure which it was. Perhaps it kept changing. Perhaps it was both. It seemed that I - and one other person - were trying to sufficiently disable the monster/machine so that it wouldn't do damage to anyone, but we didn't know how to do this. It was clear, however, that if the machine was unleashed, it would have a cataclysmic effect.

At one point you left to go above ground. You had people with you, as did I. It wasn't clear whether you left to try to disable the machine from above, or whether you simply escaped.

I tried to get in contact with you when it became evident that I could not stop the machine myself. I needed help and you were the only one who knew as much about it as I did. You didn't respond to my message - you sent it back: it came back unopened and rejected. I was so stunned by your rejection of my call that I didn't move away from the machine in time and was wounded. I kept trying to disable the machine but it continued to gain strength while I weakened. Finally I lost consciousness and woke up.

I still don't know what happened to the machine.

The dream was so vivid and this is a poor representation of it. It woke me up around 3am and I thought to write down what I remembered.

For someone who finds suspense-filled thriller-type movies very stressful, I do have the strangest dreams. Afterwards, however, I found myself thinking about my dissertation (when reflecting on your dissertation is soothing, you know the dream was stressful). I wrote those notes down as well.

My dissertation will take ethics for its topic, and one of the facets of ethical reflection on which I want to focus is the willingness to frame a situation as dilemmatic. This seems to be a crucial, fundamental ethical attitude which does not receive sufficient or thorough discussion. There isn't a situation for ethics until the situation is seen as dilemmatic and requires ethical response. If this is the case, how is it that some situations are seen as requiring ethical response by some people and not by others? I feared for a few minutes at about 3:30 this morning that I was still going to have to revert to a discussion of ethics as the development of procedures that can enforce for others the framing of a situation as dilemmatic.

I hope - but am not yet sure - and left my notes on this problem and on my dream at home (I am writing from my memory now) - that part of the solution (if solution will be the right word) will be found in a willingness for commitment and relationship. A situation becomes an ethical one for me because I have made it mine, because I have attached myself to it and because I have committed to it - become responsible to and for it. From that initial attachment, I can seek out means for criticism in order to develop an evaluative appreciation for the situation that can avoid narcissistic subjectivism.

Becoming an excellent person, ethically speaking, will involve seeking out more and ever more situations to which to attach oneself, becoming increasingly committed, taking on more responsibilities, seeking out new, more, deeper opportunities for response.

it couldn't have been the cheese...

I had my first 'teeth' dream. It was kind of horrible! I was somewhere in public. It seemed a bit like a food court/mall, but a bit more posh. First two of my bottom left side molars fell out. That was a bit unsettling and unexpected, but I thought I could manage it. No one would notice as the gap was relatively far back. Hmm. at this point, the mall looked a bit like a bazaar. Interesting. But then teeth around the hole started falling out as well. Into my hand, and, as I was suddenly in a women's bathroom (which looked rather like the bathroom at Pops for Champagne), into the sink. I wiggled my front top incisors and, finding them very loose, simply pulled them out of my mouth. I had a handful of teeth and no idea as to what to do with them. First I thought I ought to call the dentist. Then I thought I ought to call 9-1-1. Before I could do either, a group of my girlfriends came in to confront me. What did I expect, being a drug addict and all? I could not convince them that I had done no drugs. They were dismissive and accusatory while I stood aghast with a handful of teeth.

Later, in my apartment, I saw a bee. Cat started jumping around and following it, trying to catch it. I encouraged him: "Get it kitty! You can do it!" Then there was another bee. And another. And still more. I was stung on the front of my hand, in my palm, on my arm (all on my right hand/arm). The sites of the stings swelled and turned purple and then calmed down about an hour later. Then, and this was horrible, a bee got stuck in my ear. I could not get the bee out nor think of a way to do so. It stung me inside my ear and then was gone. My apartment filled with bees (leaving me now feeling like Pharaoh) and I worried about poor cat - there was no way to protect him and he would be covered in horrible bee stings.

I had no cheese last night. Indeed, I had no dinner, just a lovely glass of wine. But such dreams!