Sunday, July 20, 2003


I dreamed I was on my bicycle on a crowded highway, pedalling uphill with bright sun on my back, trying to merge with heavy traffic. A big bus came along, red, with an open door, and almost ran me over before I backed up a little and got on it. The driver had few teeth, was black, laughed at my audacity. "Where are you going?" I said. "Toronto!" He said. "By way of Baddeck?" I asked, and so a deal was reached to drop me at home.

We stopped at a long beach that bordered the highway. There wasn't sand, it was all rocks, round. The ocean stretched out in front of the people who'd stopped, blue and lazy. There were islands in it, one was red like a river stone, and shaped like a bear. Walking along the stones I met up with an old friend (I'm not saying who) and we tucked arms round one another and walked comfortably for a time.

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