// In Dreams…//
Hello, Diane. Last night I dreamt I was dining at a surrealist restaurant with my parents’ friends, Jim and Mary Ellen Macke, and their daughter, whom I’ve never met. We were sitting at an outside table in some sparsely populated, mostly treeless suburban grassland. Everything was a strange amber hue. Though we were having dinner, I don’t recall any food being served.
After a while, I turned around in my chair, and I could see several giant rhinoceroses—20, 30 feet tall—grazing in the distance. They looked like pools of walking watercolor.
Back at the table, a Christmas tree suddenly materializes. I reach up to pet its branches. As I do this, it bends itself over—top drooping like the sad tree in the Charlie Brown Christmas special—and begins licking my hand. The tongue feels like wet sandpaper. Like a cat’s tongue.
