G's meditation building: A free-standing, round stucco building in the backyard garden of our new home. A Japanese-style wooden beam arch frames the entryway. Two glowing globe lamps slide across top of the arch on a rope pulley: If these have been separated then someone is inside meditating. Inside, the floor plan is divided into concentric circles. There are four outer meditation rooms, one for each compass direction. An enormous skylight illuminates the open, vaulted ceiling. A circular hallway separates the main center room, which is a large, black-tiled pool, from the meditation rooms. The hallway is lined, floor to ceiling, with walnut bookshelves filled with books and pictures of yogis and saints. A boom box plays ethereal music.
G and I follow a group of female, Asian, Moonie-type cult people to their trailer parked in the high school parking lot. I run ahead and try to speak to the leader. Meanwhile G is taken inside the trailer. I return and follow them in. For such a small trailer, it is deceptively large inside. Everyone has now disappeared. I search through many empty rooms. Finally, out a window I see that G has been drugged and is being driven away on a yellow fork lift. She shakes limply on the tines. I call to her and yell that I love her. She looks at me, frightened and pleading, and then is gone. Outside the window I can see they have begun to set off fireworks.
My mother and I step off the neighbor’s porch right next to a sleeping mountain lion. I back away slowly and run to get my camera. The lion is gone when I return. A neighbor woman tells me it's now in her garage under the hose. I lift the garage door slowly. I can see its fur and I close it again quickly.
I park my truck on a hill and go into an art gallery. I am joined by three beautiful girls. The tall, loud blond is their leader. She ridicules the paintings for a while and we leave. As I follow them out, the proprietor pleads with me in a humorous Scottish brogue to please buy a painting for my wife. Before I can say anything, he answers for me defiantly: "No, of course not!" The girls wait for me outside, standing against a short chain link fence in the sun. I reenact the encounter for them. They all laugh. We now must cross a muddy river flowing in a deep ravine to get back to our cars. I lead the way, slipping down the muddy bank. I walk upstream for a while to rinse off the mud. My pale blue jeans are all wet but nearly clean. Back on the street, I am confused by the roads and am unable to find my truck. I enter a large glass building. Inside, I see that the doorways are like bulkheads on a battleship. I enter through a doorway at the end of a long a hallway and find myself in a large room with another bulkhead doorway leading out into the same hallway. Here, I am approached by Madonna, who has gained some weight. She leads me to her bed. I worry that someone will come through the door.
I am permitted to operate the joystick control for our spaceship. It has notches for shifting in and out of different dimensions, as well as increasing the speed. I shift down into the fastest gear and the ship goes into a wild spin. The captain grabs the controls and is able to stop our spin, but is baffled. We debark at the space station where a bound and dangerous alien prisoner is being transferred from another ship onto an elevated deck. The prisoner has eight legs and screams a lot. The captain displays a hologram showing the invisible space turbulence that caused our ship to spin near the station.
My sister and I search a building for alien embryos. We find a lot of them. Our mother arrives to show us her new, high quality, blue-tinged, sticky-backed, crisp register tape she got from the candy machine.
Many exotic birds visit our small Frida-Kahlo-esque courtyard, but none so beautiful as the magnificent blue bunting. It is as large as a pigeon but with a golden breast and long blue tail feathers. It also has the face and long, curly blond hair of a young girl.
I attend a remedial jobs class that is full of rowdy homeless people. We sit at school desks. The bell rings and a short man with a crew cut gets up and faces the class—he is the professor. He invites us all to come up and get some flyers. I collect one of each, including instructions on how to become a porn star. I return to my seat. A girl dressed in white asks me about my recording contract. I correct her, saying that I did make a record, but did not have a record deal. A guy I know is outside in the snow with his legs across the train tracks, waiting for a train to come. There is already blood in the snow.
G and I lead our two dogs through darkened hallways lined with folding chairs. We discover that wolves and badgers are sleeping under them. There is much exploratory, reciprocal sniffing, but no growling. We encounter two large pit bulls. As we pass them, I feel a pit bull’s muzzle pressed against the small of my back, but I continue walking calmly towards the door. We enter a well-lit room filled with people dressed in togas. A cheerful woman tells us that we are about to be treated to a special performance. We sit on sheet-covered bleachers, dressed in togas and wait for the show to begin.
I am alone in Egypt, riding in a cab driven by Gopardo. We are driving through a heavy snowstorm. The streets are icy and the winds are howling. We come to a stop sign and merge onto a highway with a 60 percent grade. The one-lane road climbs straight up the side of a huge, pink and orange sandstone mountain. We are soon above the storm and climbing in a line of other cars past high, billowing clouds bathed in sunset colors. I can feel we are beginning to slow down and I worry that if we slow to a stop we’ll start to slip backwards. I voice my complaint to Gopardo. We finally arrive on top in a small village. I see the Mayor and another city official fishing by the road over a cliff. They get their lines tangled together and in their struggle to get them free, they both slip off their perches and dangle in the air, clinging to their poles. Outside on firm ground, I want to go into the hotel and get a room, but looking down I see that I have bare feet. I hope that my dad was able to retrieve my stuff for me from my last hotel room. Looking down again, I see that I am now wearing my crocks. He must have been successful. I enter a small Greek restaurant and sit down at a picnic table with G and her dad. The menu, when opened, contains small packets of dates and almonds wrapped in clear plastic. I see my co-worker, M, sitting on the floor. I hand him a menu. He explains he can’t be bothered with such small orders. The owner woman emerges from the kitchen carrying a large, cloth-wrapped bundle for him containing wheels of cheese and giant rounds of bread filled with layers of butter and olives.
I visit the girls in the apartment to our right. They tell me that two girls, a blonde and a redhead, are using Ted's vacant apartment to our left. I knock and ring the bell. The door is made of cement and is sealed shut. I can see them moving around inside. My sister comes out of our apartment with cuts on her face. She has been in a fight with a Best Buy salesgirl. The fight started over a misunderstanding that a DVD would capture the details of her private life.
G and I embark on a freeway trip in separate vehicles. I lead the way in my gratified coupe. I stop at a roadside diner and go inside. The surly teen behind the counter blows snot at me through a straw, smirks and asks how he can help me. I jump over the counter and pick him up by his shirt, which is full of corn flakes. They crumble and crumbs rain out on the floor. I hock up a big loogie, but decide instead to just set him back down. As I do, he jumps up about four feet in the air. I turn to leave and start out toward my car. Outside, I see the old restaurant inspector leaning against the wall around back, so I head toward him. Just then ex-girlfriend, R, and her family arrive. We all say hello to each other, coolly, and they head inside. The inspector is younger now. He wears a sharkskin, velvet-lapeled suit jacket and he's smoking. I start to tell him about the incident inside. He interrupts me and asks if it was the girl who did it. I tell him yes, having now forgotten the facts.