December 14, 2013

Extraordinary dream. I was the patriarch of a giant extended Jewish clan. We had recently moved to new land, and at the same moment an important archaeological find had merged under the same land. I had to oversee the construction of our buildings, make sure the dig and the construction did not clash, keep everyone on both sides, family and scientists, happy. People would send me slides of things they had done and I would have to bray “I like it! I like it!” If I didn’t actually like it, I’d have to send men in the middle of the night and put it back in order, and then blame the diggers. I saw myself in a mirror. I was big, with flaming red hair. I looked like Fagin.

Packing at the most minuscule intensity. People take moving as a time to condense and simplify. Not me. I want to take every book and knick knack with me.  I want to be surrounded by the gleanings of my life, such as they are.

The ice surface on the backyard water garden is strangely rippled and bunched, like a vast piece of land. How that can be achieved in an area smaller than a bathtub I don’t know.