Month: January 2006

I’m sitting with my friend, and she looks so, so tired, like I’ve never seen her look before– it’s all written there. I ask about her teaching, when school starts back up and what her load is– she says classes begin on monday– and all I can think is that I’m worried for her if she looks like this at the beginning of the semester.

I ride the horse down from the meadow and around the pond and right up to the house, toss its bridle over a piece of statuary, and tell it I’ll be right back. it’s not my horse, but I get to ride it since I live here. I think about what a sweet deal it is and how much I’ll miss it when it’s over. I go to the kitchen, wanting to find some sort of treat for the horse to thank it for making me so happy, but I’m not entirely sure what it would like to eat– at first I contemplate a tray of chocolate cookies sitting there, but then I think, no, maybe chocolate’s bad for horses like it is for dogs. then I proceed to mix up a bowl of cereals and grains, thinking that must be a safe bet– and at the last minute take a gamble and throw some yogurt in.

I’m half-dressed, just wearing a long tshirt (which is not quite long enough) when I step outside the dressing closet to quickly grab some clothes out of my bag– just then someone else walks by and sees me– sees my pubic area visible beneath the hem of the shirt– and I realize it’s odly bare and smooth, no hair, and pulled up in such a way that a small knot hangs down– back inside the closet, I look in the mirror and realize I have a tiny penis– then someone else starts to come in, followed by another– the guys’ and the girls’ closets are all together in here, connected– and by now I have my shirt off and am rushing around with a blue bra clutched to my breasts, not on yet, just trying to cover myself and duck away to dress.

the guys are all having some sort of boring guy meeting and the girls are all downstairs doing their own thing. I hang a long, colorful rope swing from a handy hook in the ceiling and put on a chick folksinger I like and proceed to swing all through the upstairs rooms, in and out of the room where the guys are meeting. after awhile I get tired of swinging and hop down– at this point I’m wearing my black and white bathing suit which has served as a kind of leotard– and now I decide I’ll go swimming, knowing the guys will be able to see me if they look– so far there’s been no real response to my shenanigans, but I’m confident that they can see me if they only will.

there’s a large, tall cage just outside the door with enormous tree branches set up as perches. inside are owls and other creatures I’m not as interested in. the cats get in and go after a baby owl– I rush in and pull them off, but they’ve had him on the ground, and I’m worried for him. he seems to have shrunk inside himself, to look no longer even like an owl but rather some other type of smaller bird– his eys are closed, and I’m so afraid for him– I stroke his feathers lightly and speak quietly, begging him, please, to be all right, promising that I’ll look after him from now on. I set him down on the porch and step away, go away for awhile, giving him some quiet space– and when I come back later, he’s better, alert and back to his normal baby-owl size– and when he sees me, he hoos like he’s been waiting for me.

I’m staying in a house beside the northern beach when we find five… what are they? like sasquatch– another race– biped, hairy, peaceful… who have been living in the woods. they have some particular name, a word I’ve never heard before, what they are, the… something or other. and we take them into our house where they’ll be safe– we hide them away from the dangers of the world, other people. but then people start coming to the house, and we’re struggling to keep them safe and hidden– and their fellows are supposed to be on their way– so we keep a lookout, and when, one morning, I see them come walking single file along the water line, I debate for a moment how not to startle them (they’re a shy and wild people)– and then they see me and know it’s me and turn toward me up the beach– but there are the other people in the house– so I move quickly to cut them off– and they startle and turn and run back the way they came. I think, it’s unfortunate that I couldn’t explain it to them, but at least they’ll be safer back in the woods.