In my good intent, I went back to my dream and recovered the horses that had been stolen from me–three of them. My dream self stood with them at the open gate, and I ran my dream hands over the dream velvet on their dream withers, their dream necks, and let them blow hot air through their giant nostrils into my cheek, air from their enormous, beautiful dream heads. The dream filly, new as a couple days, wove through and was a part of the knot of us. Now, wakeful and done with that, left blinking, wondering about my prehension of the future–yes, I am learning about Whitehead, Alfred North–and feel that he’s on to something with his process relational theory. Essentially, we are connected to/have a relationship with everything. How can we not?
How can we be at all separate with anything? Where are you?
Oh calm down. I’m here. You should be enjoying the rain. It’s lovely.
I am. I do. It is. But I have my life to sort out now after the studio tour, which I know was a lob to keep me here. You’re not fooling anyone. Well, you’re not fooling me. The timing of that was outstanding, and it was a glorious two days of feeling like I belonged somewhere. I sensed the Whiteheadean perishing of experience into the present. So we bring all of our experiences with us, and I don’t know why but I feel like I’m going to burst. All we have to do is love each other, and the planet. That’s all. That’s the foundation. I’m declining attending a reception as many will not be vaccinated, have reached out to friends and received conspiracy links back, and am trying to compartmentalize a comment equating Ontario’s passport requirement to “Nazi Germany.” I am sad about all of this, heartbroken.
This is a difficult time.
I am in flux, here on this ledge.
Why are you on a ledge?
I thought I might spot the wonderful carrot from here.
The carrot is the experience. You know that.
I suppose... It would be nice if you would embody.
I am already embodied in you. You have everything you…
Don’t say it. Don’t crack that ol’ chestnut. Don't do it.