or how to push the delicate threads of the self into pixels
Saturday, February 10, 2001
Dream Log: February 10, 2001
~My family was on the plane that took off first. As we flew over I could see the blackened crumpled smoldering ashes strewn across the tarmac that was left after it had crashed. Shocked into disbelief I knew the pilot would refuse my request to turn around and go back. There was nothing I could do.
~Locked in my room again I took apart the doorknob so I could see down the hallway. Tucked inside a hollow in the door were blameful thoughts on yellow paper, one part laid over the other as I unfolded it to read my life's list of past sins. The paper became watery in my hands as I tried to read.