April 18, 2014

Good Friday

Last dream of the night was a remarkable melange. I was attending some sort of celebrity wedding, though whether I was a reporter or a family member or just curious is obscure. One of the families was tremendously wealthy and famous. They had a whole section of the hotel to themselves, where there were always parties or events, and into which you couldn’t pass without official documentation, though you could press your face against the glass and peer into the lights. The bride was a member of that family. Her two brothers were famous twin Adonises, athletes whose beauty stopped traffic. They were swimmers, and they seemed always to be emerging from a pool, naked and beaded with water, to everyone’s delight. Even in the hotel lobby they were wet and naked, but, again, so beautiful that nobody raised a fuss. The mother was some society harridan whom everybody feared. Now that I think of it, I might actually have been the groom, who’d come to the hotel early and in secret to see what I was up against. I was more interested in the brothers than in the bride, whom I cannot now picture. Hunted through many elegant rooms for– something.

Infection in the sinuses and ears, which will make singing for the next three days interesting.

Talked with J about our departing Provost, and got a new perspective. Her good works were many and vital, and ether they were not well publicized or I looked the other way in my pique. I am not exactly ashamed of thinking what I thought of her–the offenses are real and I interpreted them correctly– but I do feel foolish for having assumed my little glimpse was all the scene. I was as one getting splashed in the street by someone hurrying on to greater tasks. I don’t like that image. . . . I was like someone getting a bad judgment from a judge who made thirty good ones on the same day. Of course, thereafter I listened for those who had also been wronged, and assumed there was none but us.