the way things look vs the way they are

we’re walking along a city street when I notice a man in a uniform bend down on one knee, brace a firearm like a bazooka on his shoulder, and fire into the building ahead of us– we duck and run away across the street and up a hill, up some steps where we encounter more men in uniform in formation, in readiness. we’re trying to make ourselves small and quick to get out of the middle of it, but there’s only just time to duck behind a low wall before it begins– there’s a lot of activity and then something in the air before the building, like a huge bird or bat– and then we see it screech and collapse, fold and fall, when they fire upon it. afterwards the men all put down their weapons and everybody falls out of character, and I realize the whole thing was a street play and that the thing in the air was a giant puppet.

we walk inside into a production in progress and are given elaborate costumes ourselves– we’re dancing girls of a sort, glamorous and erotic, and I’m entirely blue, thickly painted in layers and layers of blue makeup and glitter entirely covering my face and hair. it’s a remarkable experience to become someone else so entirely. we find ourselves in a crowded banquet room standing near one of the tables– an older gentleman speaks cordially to us, and we’re flattered and then realize he’s graciously asking us to move so his party can take their table– and we move out of the way. it’s evident we don’t belong here, aren’t of the same staure as these important people, but our costumes have gained our entrance and somewhat acceptance. eventually we leave, and I’m looking forward to getting in a long shower and washing off all the blue. every time I touch my head or face accidentally, my palms come away smudged with sticky blue glitter.

I’m at huron mountain off-season and run into a friend who’s preparing for his brother’s wedding– I ask if I can borrow his canoe– I’m swimming in the water– and he points down the river to their boathouse in the distance.

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