So why mangoes? you may well ask. This is my dream: a mango tree within reach of my balcony; abundant, sensuous pleasure; sunny, sweet fruit and the flowering of my creative life in profusion. This is a dream of wealth shared, spent lovingly on you. Taste a mango, celebrate a windfall, and feel good. Leave the seed somewhere else to grow, and pass on. We are the agents of seed dispersal. What good is changing the world if you don't enjoy it? And what is enjoyment if it doesn't change the world?
Friday, July 3, 2009
The inside of my head surprises me occasionally
In the dream I just had, a line of women were walking down the runway, and one woman gets to the front and she's doing a little hip wiggle, and then it turns into a belly dance, and she is making eye contact with the audience and she says "Did you see that? Look at these frills. Of course, if you buy the dress, he's going to want to see some moves." And then she goes over to someone, and her feet are about level with this audience member's face, and she's wearing these ugly transparent drawstring bags on her feet, and she tells the lady "Will you check out these shoes? They're so comfortable." And then someone comes to shoo her off, because she's holding up the line and she goes "Oh, yes, that's right" and holds up an index card, which she doesn't read from, and she says "And next... who had two sandwiches for lunch..." and then she walks off, and the next girl comes on, and she's enormous, and accompanying her is her even more enormous mother, and I sort of follow the first woman but I hear in the background the next girl telling the audience that her dress is made from whey, and then I realize how ridiculous this dream is and I fall on the ground laughing. I end the dream in hysterics, curled up in a ball behind the scenes of the runway.
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