Sunday Morning, February 21st

I had a dream while I was in Los Angeles the morning after the Andrew Bird show. The dream felt like a silent film, with no audible dialogue, against a soundtrack of songs by Andrew Bird and was broken up into short vignettes. It is a story about D.

"Quiet, quiet down she said, speaking to the back of his head."

She was telling me to calm down and that everything was going to be fine. I was worried about the time. I'm always worried about time. I was making her rush and she was frustrated with me. She questioned my anxiety, quieted the noise, but she couldn't put out the flames inside.

"Now I'm just another split in your seam; the I in your team."

It all became darkness and it was suffocating. I heard the hollow notes of music playing in the distance, as if on the other end of a long corridor. It was haunting me. He was haunting me. Slowly, a white light grew in the distance.

"I'll do anything you want but I won't be your glass figurine."

She decided she wouldn't do it anymore. No longer was I a person, but morphed, like a Kafkain concept, into an emotional burden. She needed to let go of me but I struggled to be the burden in her heart. Without that, I am nothing.

"'Cause when it comes to misery, when it comes to misery, when it comes to misery no one competes with me."

Without her presence my existence became lifeless. So when strength came to take her away it was all over. The room was bright but the darkness I had become was impenetrable. I was left as a thick, black, hovering cloud lacking a form to inhabit.

"So will you come to burn my effigy? It should keep the flies away. If you long to burn an effigy it should be of a man who's lost his way"