August 2, 2013

Remarkable network of dreams before waking, which I know are connected with my anxiety over The Falls of the Wyona. In the dream I suddenly remember the publisher who was keenly interested in my work, the agent who was enthusiastic and dying to see the next thing I produced. Of course, there were no such people, and my conscious mind tries to correct my dream mind, but the dream mind recognizes the layering of reality, and I know on all levels that I’ve dreamed of these people before, and they have the kind of reality that comes from a kind of experience. Dream mind makes conscious mind believe that prolonged disappointment has merely made it forget, so we plunge into the search. I find the agent in a gigantic ultra-modern office building beside an airport. She is interested. We discuss the text (which she has miraculously read) in depth. Of course, the book is not my book, and I learn it as we discuss it. On the page it looks like the Talmud, text in the center and annotations all around. She gives me a new copy of Pound’s Cantos, saying, “See, even the great ones get remaindered.” Then I hear Maud throwing up in the kitchen. The famous writer who was interested in me is visible even now, standing in front of a brick building at Exeter or Cambridge or somewhere, alive inside my head as though it were a cinema with two reels running at the same time.

Rutter on Spotify. Waiting for it to be over.