Thursday, November 13, 2014

I was at Eliane’s apartment around the time my dad was dying, and I was somehow responsible. Like I’d let some murderous person into the building by accident.

And I dreamt about cocaine. Big, big piles of coke. Someone offered it to me, a woman I think. The lines looked like little snowdrifts, too big to snort in one go. I felt daunted, but I also desired it. I felt myself getting high even before I leaned over with the bill in my nose.

Sunday, November 09, 2014

There was a flying object low in the sky, not really a plane, but something like a blimp with wings. It began to do slow loop-the-loops. Often in my dreams, the planes crash. Not this time.

I had been in Vegas for a few days and it occurred to me that I had not gambled at all—I had not once sat down at a table, nor wagered on a game, nothing. I felt vaguely proud, but also perplexed. What had I been doing there? It had been some kind of event I think, possibly work-related, but also involving friends.

Toward the end of my dreams I wondered about the motivations of Islamist terrorists.