September 27, 2021

Wrote in the morning, then drove to the mountains and hiked a chunk of the Hard Times. Beautiful dapple of lights, tiny blue and golden autumn wild flowers. 

Long disturbing dreams that endured through several shiftings of position in bed: I got an “apartment” in a basement with a dirt floor, with a cot to sleep on, heated by a wood stove. It was in a kind of homeless camp, though I had my own squalid space, and the owner of it all invited me to tour his shining modernistic mansion on the other side of a creek. I had failed horribly at something—maybe at everything–and the task of the dream was figuring out how to live under altered circumstances.