The Dreams: The ASPHALT is bumpy and very steep with a series of small rolling hills. We are laughing at how difficult it is to try to roller skate uphill. At the top we look over the edge and see that on the other side there is a Tibetan garden with winding paths and a rectangular pool. Tall blue mountains stand close behind. We are both stunned by the sight. There is a kind of market with small stalls set up along the path. I notice there is a gift stand, and I realize this means we are not the first outsiders to be here, that our presence is expected. Farther along the path ther are a few steps going up to a low platform. There is a body covered with a plain cloth and lying with feet toward us, her head in a pile of incense and herbs––maybe she's in prayer? The smell is overwhelming and complex, roses and tumeric and lavendar all together but distinct from each other. I walk over to her, disturbing her coverings. It's hard to breathe for the rich spices, the smells. I step down the stairs to the right, along the path toward the center now, but not yet to the pool. As I look into the murky POOL, the water becomes clear, with numerous rounded stones on the bottom. Then I am looking at four KEYS on a sheet of white paper. One by one their outlines are traced so there will be a record in case they're ever lost. Then I am at a farm, throwing something down a wood covered chute. As I open the latch I see a great stream of mash, rushing underground. I am swimming in a deep lake with water animals - large beasts moving with grace and strength through the water. Some of them may be mechanical, I'm not sure. Next to me on my right is a water buffalo who starts swimming across my path, nudging me over to the side. There is a feeling of being somewhere not quite real, a sense of being inside a diorama - maybe there's a ceiling here. As we approach the second lagoon, two people - one after the other, dive into the green water and swim toward a bit of land, just offshore. As we turn to leave a plume of fire shoots up from the center of the pool, 20 or 30 feet in the air. Many men are running down the runway supporting the wings of a huge wooden bird. The underside is all fire and as it takes off it glides like a paper airplane. Suddenly a horse summersaults off the back of the truck in front of me. This the third time this has happened. I am close behind them and have to swerve into the left lane. Then the driver slips off the truck as well. He looks stunned. I am spinning; my body is spinning around. The circus performers put the bit in the horses' mouths, and they spin around. The trapeze is spinnng like that. Hands at my side and yet there is nothing touching me . I am as nature made me, and I am revoloving at 45 rpm record speed. I have a big hole in the center of my head. spinning spinning spinning and at the same time orbiting - orbiting what, I don't know. I stop for a second, stop this orbit and the spinning spinning the spin. I am floating in the air. There is a moderate wind, and this moves me slowly. Below me, on the floor, on the ground, is a ladder. I call to a man to set this up, and I start to climb down, but after a step or two I start to tumble as I am unsure he will be able to hold the ladder in place long enough for me to climb down. So I double up and fall, apparently with no fear of injury. Then I am boarding a boat in France, but my baggage has been left ashore. I run to fetch it, but my legs are heavy. My sleeping berth is occupied, my baggage isn't there. Getting onto the train I notice that I don't have any shoes on, just purple socks. Dressed in trousers, but barefooted and needing a shave, the Engine Man calls out "Hey, do you thinkk one ticket entitles you to hog a whole seat?" From the upper trunk in the attic I take a large red apple. Now it's dusk. Suddenly on the path there's a cluster of snapping turtles. They seem prehistoric with their long snouts and slow repititlian eyes. The person ahead of us manages to get to the slow moving creatures, but I'm not able to go any further. Then one of the turtles scoots past me, and I notice there are large alligators up ahead. It's frustrating because they are just blocking a small patch of the trail, and I can see that the lake is just beyond. My companion tries scaling the cliff on the side of the path, but that seems useless to me. When you get to the other side of the rocks you are farther away from where you want to go. Except for the occasional attack toward me, the creatures really are slow moving, and so I decide to try walking carefully between them. I notice that my hands are leaking, as though I have dozens of small cuts. Someone wipes away the blood holding both of my hands with a large white towel. The flow of blood stops for a moment and slowly starts to leak again. I'm on the dark blue couch with an alarm bell. It fits in my hand like a heart but it's white and made of flexible white plastic or heavy rubber. If I disturb it, it goes off. I hold it, it's breathing, it's almost alive. For awhile it's ok, but then I want to put it back in its box. I have to punch in a code to deactivate it, but I make mistakes and the alarm starts to go off. Then a large man in a white nightshirt goes into the next white room and picks up an acordion-based instrucment and begins to play a slow song full of longing. When I reach the lake it's deep twilight. Many late swimmers have piled into an inflatable raft for the return trip. It looks uncomfortable, and I decide to swim alone in the deep still water under the darkening sky.