(Entered in paper journal at 6:20 AM at home in Harlem.)
Dream 1
It was nearing sunset. I walked down a street with big, garden-like lawns and houses like brownstones. I walked past two kids. One of them threw a grey cobblestone at the back of my head. It knocked me hard. I stumbled and was dizzy without being able to regain my equilibrium.
I thought, with great relief, and only a twinge of fear, that at last I was going to die. But I wanted to kids to learn a lesson about being jerks -- I wanted to be sure they would learn.
I feel like my mom's house was just a few houses down the road. I now sat on a tree stump by the two kids who were in the midst of an under-kept, brambly garden, at a small girl's tea table.
Apparently the kids weren't aware of me. One of them said, "I could tell we got him good because when the rock hit I could see some shit fly out of the zits on his face."
The other kid said, "Yeah. He has a lot of zits, doesn't he? And wasn't it weird how while he walked away he was mumbling, 'This is it. I'm done with all of it. This is the end'?"
I now worried. I thought I had a pretty good memory of everything that happened after the rock had hit me. Now I wasn't sure. Or perhaps I was becoming schizophrenic.
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