(Entered in paper journal at 5:45 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
It was daytime. I walked down a sidewalk on a slight hill with my old friend R. The sidewalk banked against a wide road that was slightly busy with car traffic.
We were now at the bottom of the hill, coming back toward the sidewalk as if through a hole in a fence bordering a weedy, wooded area. Across the street we saw four smokestacks barely peering above the bare (as if in winter) canopies of another wooded area. The stacks emitted steam like cirrus clouds.
I made a cynical comment about smokestacks. I then realized that smokestacks had something to do with R's business. Now R would be mad at me for making a comment that seemed to be aimed against his work.
We were back near the top of the hill. R was a little higher up than I, in a "shop" like a very small wood shack that was set up right on the sidewalk. I walked into the "shop" and started talking to R.
But then I got a look at my limbs. They were grotesquely thin. I wondered what could have happened to me. I thought I must have been stricken by some disease without having realized it all this time. I got very afraid and cried out to my friend R.
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