Having my way with Ulysses

Dreams go by contraries.

For a Spectre has no Emanation but what he imbibes from deceiving A Victim! Then he becomes her Priest & she his Tabernacle. And his Oak Grove, till the Victim rend the woven Veil. 12:50 am

Follow me. Come on, follow. Follow follow follow. You know me, yes? Remember? Almost it.  There you go, you saw me in your dream.  I held up a watermelon for you to smell.  Now follow, come away from that badger hole, nothing buried dead buried in there. Now. Is it guilt or shame today? What do you regret, action or inaction? I know that answer. They both have a face and you will see who. Look. I say, look. Lapwing you are. As am I. So a lapwing be. Let us bury your agenbite of inwit in a nice deep grave and lead each other away.  I’ll teach you. I’ll show you how my sweet buzzard scavenger darling, you’ll fly and your foes will be beneath you as they every shall be. Word without end. Listen now. Don’t be Polonius standing behind a curtain, everybody can see your feet sticking out the bottom. You do remember what happened to him, don’t you? You think that bit of rag hanging over your conscience will protect you? Don’t you know anything about hiding? Listen. You’ve done things. We all know it. We see your clay feet. Your actions we all witnessed birthed reactions and those reactions reproduced.  You bury the grandmother deeds all you like, and lead us all away. Hop hop away, little bird, follow me this way. Pay no attention to that world behind the curtain. But the things you didn’t do. Came to a whole lot of nothing, no? Well mark my words babylove, that nothing will be the something that buries you.

Slumberous but awake

Father, it would be far less painful for us if you ate of us; for you clothed us in this sad flesh -- it is for you to strip it off. 8:58 pm

Memory.  Remember.  I am almosting it.  I dreamed I was wearing red slippers and scarlet pajamas slashed with gold.  I remember rising from a red carpet and walking amongst my sisters in the street of harlots.  I remember the sea wind, and sickness around me but I was not afraid of death, only of becoming lost.  In my dream, i remember now, my menarche shocking my mother into her old age.  She sees me with pity and jealousy.  I am what she was, another herself.  She’ll murder me, the fear of God in her face.  Laughing, she will, she’ll gobble all her family.  I remember.  I was.  I gave a melon to a king disguised as a carpet merchant.  And then a shift.  It was as if in that instant, that moment when melon became gift or closer in, the moment when melon was simultaneously mine to give and his received, both and.  That moment something confused.  That instant of transformation I became not the dreamer but the dreamed.  I saw myself stuck to a rock on a beach like a diseased mussel.  Dull, waking from sleep, but waking to a different place and in that different place I remembered my life.  I was almosting it.  I felt myself in a bath languid, and I spoke to a woman and I stood by a grave.  I saw keys, crossed and held up my fingers, two keys crossed.  And then and then goddesses, three moving slightly, breathing.  Do they have?  And I heard music, a song.   I listened so beautiful see me.  You see me.  And and and and what and what I spoke against God and flew.  I flew.  I could feel myself flying, a bird flying with three fangs in my mouth and I understand them.  Forgive them.  Yes.  Fate that is and I fell.  I fell.  In a house of death I died and I don’t know what else.  Because you don’t know.  You never can know.

That lies in space which I in time must come to, ineluctably.

Finally, the curious fact makes itself felt that in general people experience their present naïvely, as it were, without being able to form an estimate of its contents; they have first to put themselves at a distance from it -- the present, that is to say, must have become the past -- before it can yield points of vantage from which to judge the future. 2:57 pm

Afterwit.  I remember my dream.  I dreamed somebody dreaming me and in that dream I flew.  It was a wonder.  I was a wonder.  I flew through the augur’s templum passing from behind and curved to the right.  An evil sign for business warned Michael Scotus, but for the bird?  What of his business?  I was an augur once.  I looked to the temple of air and saw past the image of my mother’s face to read the inhuman clamour of the birds.  Thirteen swallows.  If Judus go forth tonight, he will find reason to betray.  He will go forth and meet himself.  Why?  I looked for reason to leave and found symbols both of departure and of loneliness.  It was both.  Nother dying come home Father.   Now what? No birds.  I was the bird.  Bearing the name of a hawklike man I flew through space to come to time.  Remember.  I am almosting it.  A man, an offer of melon, a creamfruit smell, and a future.  Who?  You will see who.  The present must become the past so we may see the future.