7/30/05

Words from the waking world: Peridot (aka olivine) is a green or yellow-green semi-precious stone. I had thought that the metaphysical properties ascribed to peridot included prosperity but looking it up this morning, I found:

Peridot can be used to bring results to ones search - the seeking of that which is lost in the physical world, as well as the quest for the enlightened state.

- Love Is In The Earth, Melody

I also found an interesting website that even goes as far as to tie stones to the AA 12-step program.

I am talking with a co-worker. He is explaining that he needs some help. He feels that if he had a piece of peridot he would be able to get through the things in his life that are causing him distress.

He feels that he needs a big piece of stone but I assure him that a small piece will work just as well. After all, it is the energy that counts, not the size of the stone.

I give him two small pieces of peridot. He places them in his pocket and continues working.

Later, I am kneeling on the floor straightening up boxes and papers. He rolls over on his chair and shows me a wad of stuff that he pulled from his pocket. The stones are not there. He is upset at having lost them and feels that his life will not improve unless he finds them.

Since I am on the floor, I look around and quickly find the stones. Instead of only two stones, I find three and realize that in dropping from his pocket, one of the stones broke into two pieces. I think of keeping one of the stones but hand all three of them back to him.

Later, I overhear him speaking with someone about the stones. This guy is telling my co-worker that he needs a larger piece of peridot, that it should be about the size of a softball. He holds his hand out to demonstrate the size of the stone needed.

I am amazed that neither of them has any idea of what they are proposing. Even if you could find it, a low quality piece of peridot of that size would cost a fortune. I try to explain this but they are not listening.

I decide not to force the point and allow them to think that they might actually secure a stone that large. Inside, I am glad that he still has the stones I gave him in his pocket.

7/28/05

Words from the waking world: Dreams have been quiet (unremembered) for the past couple of days. Could be caused by being too tired - I just want to sleep some more and probably could use a good rainy day to do nothing but lounge around, read and sleep. The dream that follows is one of a few pre-cognitive dreams that I have had over my lifetime. This one occurred during the week of January 14, 1986 - two weeks before the Challenger STS-51L accident. For reference, I was working near the Kennedy Space Center at the time and very aware of shuttle launch missions, dates and times. For me, shuttle launches were spectacular events that were not to be missed. If you have never seen one up close, you owe it to yourself to see one - what you see on TV is nothing compared to the sensation of seeing one live.

I am standing on the balcony of a nicely appointed condo overlooking the water. The balcony appears to be 10 to 12 stories above ground level. The water below is flowing and I know that this is a river, not the ocean.

I look across the river and can see the shuttle launch site. I can sense the countdown and know that liftoff is coming soon.

The shuttle has lifted off and I watch as it rises out of sight. Looking down, I see seven pairs of eyes hit the balcony at my feet and bounce a couple of times as they come rolling past me.

Although all I can see are seven sets of eyes, I am terrified by the realization that there are seven people who are now dead. I am very upset and turn to go into (hide in?) my condo. As I turn, I see two children, a boy and a girl, standing by the sliding glass door. They are visibly upset and are reaching out to me and crying, "Mommy" over and over. They are only a few feet from me in front of the door but they appear to be sliding farther and farther away. Their reach is more strained the further they go; I can see the tendons in their fingers stretch as they reach harder towards me.

I am emotionally shaken by this dream and wake in a sweat. The feeling of horror does not leave me for days.

Words from the waking world: When my mother dreams of someone in a wedding dress she knows that someone will soon die. For me, eyes in a dream are a prediction of death. Immediately upon waking from this dream I turned to my partner and said that the upcoming shuttle launch was not going to go well. I told only one other person about this dream before the launch. Both of them thought I was wound a little too tight. The day of the launch, I tried to miss the launch by dallying in the cafeteria but since I was working so close to the Space Center (and on shuttle projects), it was impossible to make excuses for not walking outside and watching with everyone else.

7/26/05

I am standing in a lot with construction equipment. A home is being built here and the land is being prepared for the foundation. Dirt and construction materials are piled on the lot.

I arrived by car and it is parked in front of the lot next door. That lot is fully developed and the home on it belongs to my friend, Amy, and her family.

I am speaking with Amy on the phone telling her that I am in front of her house. I am trying not to be too obvious but I would like her to invite me in. She does not acknowledge my comment and keeps on talking.

I mention again that I am out front but she again ignores my comment and keeps on talking.

We continue talking while I poke my shoe at a pile of dirt and look at her house. I hear her speaking in both of my ears and realize that she is speaking into the phone and also coming across her yard and into the lot where I am standing.

She is wearing a huge, warm smile and is laughing at the joke that she played on me. She knew I was outside and was sneaking up on me to surprise me.

Words from the waking world: If you knew Amy, this is not unusual. In a one hour phone conversation, you would be lucky to get half-a-dozen words in. She is a wonderful person but she does have a lot to say.

7/25/2005

I am talking with a friend about land she recently purchased. Three acres in a growing rural community.

I am standing on the property. There is no one around. The adjacent properties are all just open land. There are no structures.

Time moves forward and I see that some of the other properties have been developed. There is a fence around the three acres. I am trying to understand exactly how big three acres is. I figure that if I find the center of each side of the property, I will be able to see how big the property is.

I move along the fenceline and try counting the fenceposts. The posts are unevenly spaced and I am unable to judge the distance to the center by looking at the number of posts on each side of me.

I black out for what seems to be a moment but when I check my watch I realize that hours have passed. I don't know what happened while I was in that state and wonder if I just stood there or if I was mobile. Did the neighbors see me and wonder what I was doing?

I walk into the center of town and notice that the time on the town clock is incorrect. This bothers me.

I find the clock shop and am frustrated that all of the clocks in the shop have different times. I keep checking my watch (which changes from digital to analog) to verify the correct time.

7/24/2004

I am a passenger in a mid-size sedan. An autistic woman is driving.

Words from the waking world: I say that she is "autistic" but that is a word that was not used in the dream; it is a word used after waking. She has emotional problems.

We approach a busy intersection and find ourselves in the right-most lane which is for right-turns only. We want to go straight through. The woman driving gets very nervous and is unsure of how to negotiate through the intersection.

The light is red and I tell the driver to get the attention of the person driving the car next to us to see if he will let us slip in ahead of him when the light changes. She is too nervous and is fixated on the road in front of us.

I suggest that she put on her left blinker to let the people behind us know that we are not going to be moving immediately when the light changes and perhaps one of the people in the next lane will see the blinker and let us in. Again, she is too flustered to do this.

While we wait for the light there are lots of pedestrians moving in front of us. They don't stay in the crosswalk and move in with the cars on the cross street.

The light changes for us. Our sedan is now a large van. I hadn't noticed it before but there are road construction barriers blocking the lane to our left and cars must merge into our lane to go straight through the intersection (which is what we need to do).

This makes it easier but as we proceed there are still pedestrians moving through the intersection and cars are weaving around them rather than just waiting and allowing them to pass. We wait for them to clear the intersection before we proceed.

We are back in the sedan and now find ourselves in the drive-up teller lane at a bank. We don't want to be here and need to jump the curb to get out of this lane. The jostling of the car wakes me.

7/23/2005

I am sitting at a table in a sidewalk cafe in a city. I do not know which city. I have a menu and have read it. I know what I want and am ready to order.

The waitress is slow in coming. I am not in a rush but I believe that she is taking too long. I read a book and watch the people passing on the street while I wait to give my order.

I have given my order and am waiting for my meal to arrive. It is taking a very long time. Everyone who has come after me has already been served. I am annoyed but don't feel like making a scene.

While I wait for my food I decide to head down the block to a small sandwich shop where I know I can get a quick sandwich. I can eat it and be back before my meal arrives.

I am back from eating at the other restaurant. In addition to whatever I ate there, I purchased a bag of chocolate walnut biscotti which sits on the table. They sell the same biscotti here and I am concerned that they will try to charge me for them again.

I think about where I put the receipt but get to thinking about how long it has been since I placed my order. Convinced that they have forgotten about my order, I go in search of the waitress.

When I find her, she tells me that they don't have my order. I am confused and somewhat annoyed that they were just going to let me sit there forever without telling me that they had lost my order.

7/19/2005

Words from the waking world: Some nights are full of dreams but, for unknown reasons, the dreams are not remembered. Last night was one of those nights, plenty of dreams but none remembered. Rather than leave this entry blank, I will relate a recurring dream that started about 15 years ago and I last had about 6 months ago.

Recurring dream 1: I am lying in a cold basement. The room is dimly lit by torches set in sconces high up on the stone walls. Around the room are arched passageways that lead into darkness. It may be a trick of the light but the dream appears to be in black and white and looks a lot like the set from a bad 1950's horror movie.

There is a low, guttural murmuring sound that resonates through my chest.

Although I cannot lift myself to look around, I can see that I am chained to a large stone altar in the center of the room.

The murmur grows in volume. As it increases, I become aware of dark figures all around me. They are in the room but unseen. They move in unison around the altar chanting. I chant with them.

We are waiting for me to be sacrificed. I am unafraid. Being chosen for as the sacrifice is a great honor and I am looking forward to when the "one" comes to release me.

There is something strangely sexual about everything that is happening. I am strongly aroused and am anticipating that the moment of death will also be a time of sexual release.

The chanting has deepened and I can feel it throughout my body like the reverberations of a bass drum. The one who will release me is getting closer, the unseen ones around me are moving faster. Torches flicker. I am sweaty and cold at the same time.

I pull against the chains holding me in place; not to be free but to get closer to the source of the overwhelming sensations coursing through my body. The chanting is faster, deeper and is resonating through my body into the stone altar and creating a harmonic hum that shakes the earth.

I am chanting with the others and realize that the word that I am chanting is backwards. I know what it is forwards but I keep chanting it backwards. Over and over. Over and over until I hear myself saying the word "syrinx" out loud. Backwards. In the waking world.

Words from the waking world: This dream has many variations but the basic theme is always the same: I am to be sacrificed on a dark subterranean altar. Sometimes the participants are seen while other times they are not. There is always chanting. Most often it is just rhythmic gibberish, only once was it spoken backwards. I often wake with the sound of the chant coming from my waking mouth. Sometimes I see the one that will be releasing/killing me but most often I do not. I am always strongly sexually stimulated by the dream.

7/18/2005

Dream 1: There are two children playing. We are in a house with the children's parents then in a park where I am the only adult. Events keep switching from inside with their parents to outside without their parents.

The parents have now gone and I am responsible for these children. One of them is no longer in my dream, the other is now hiding in a toy tank. The tank truck is too small to physically conceal the child but he is fully hidden inside anyway.

I now know child's name is Victor.

We are outside again and the tank is driving down an embankment that ends sometimes on a busy roadway and other times in a rapidly moving waterway. I recognize the danger and call for Victor to stop but he keeps going.

I am afraid for him. He keeps moving and is getting too far ahead for me to catch. At times the scene changes back to inside the home where the tank is several rooms away (although I can still see it) and headed for some unknown danger.

Dream 2: Dawn and I are in the kitchen. I am looking out the window over the sink watching the clouds move across the sky. I comment to Dawn about how interesting they look and she joins me at the window.

The clouds move from behind us, over our heads and disappear over the horizon in front of us giving the impression that we are moving backwards.

We watch as the speed of the clouds increases. All of this motion makes me dizzy and I fall down.

7/17/2005

Dream 1: I am watching someone interview Roger Daltrey on TV. There is a song playing in the background from one of Roger's solo albums and he is explaining to the interviewer that the song is about his struggle not to kill his Who bandmate, Pete Townsend.

The song remains the same but I am hearing it and watching Roger perform it from the audience of a large indoor concert venue. Although performing, I can still hear the interview and Roger is describing this concert.

I am aware of monitors and measuring devices and can see LED's and meters all registering in the low to moderate range. Roger explains that this was his solo performance and he invited Pete to perform with him.

When Pete walks out on stage the crowd goes wild. The meters that are registering audience approval all jump to the maximum and stay there. Roger is still singing but the performance is almost drowned out by the applause.

Roger, in the interview, is extremely agitated and tells how it takes all that he has not to kill Pete at that point. His jealousy is that intense.

Then something quietly snaps, the interview fades, the crowd is no longer screaming, everyone is enjoying the show as the concert continues with both performers on stage. Whatever tension was there before is gone.

Words from the waking world: I have never been a big fan of The Who. Although I have attended many concerts, The Who was never on my list of bands to see.

Dream 2: Facts come at me in pieces, like looking at a jigsaw puzzle before it is assembled. I see bite marks on flesh. Arms, neck, back and chest have red, oval shaped marks that I know are bite marks. I also know how the marks got there; the two people I am watching have sex are biting each other. They enjoy it. The book I am reading on the subject explains how and why people do this. I am not uncomfortable watching and even though I don't find their proclivities particularly disturbing, I am not altogether comfortable either.

Words form the waking world: I do feel that there is something wrong with what they are doing but as long as it is not happening to me, I am ok with it. I just don't know if this feeling occurred in the dream or after waking.

7/16/2005

Dream 1: I am outside of a gas station. I have to use the bathroom. If I don't want to soil myself, I have to do it quickly.

I rush into the restroom just as someone else is finishing up. I see him drying his hands and I head for the stall.

As I poke my head into the stall I realize that the front wall of the stall is leaning against the bowl and I am unsure of how to get myself in there to use it.

As I stand there pondering the situation, the other man comes over and picks up the front wall of the stall and moves it out of the way leaving the toilet totally exposed.

There is no way that I am going to use the toilet in full view of anyone who comes in. I wake up.

Dream 2: I am still at a gas station but this time I am in the convenience store portion up front. There are many people in the store and dozens of cars are parked out front and lined up to use the pumps.

A man standing beside me starts screaming and pointing. I look where he is pointing and see a truck speeding off of the highway into the gas station. The man beside me is telling the driver to turn but the truck keeps coming and crashes into the front wall of the gas station. People and merchandise go flying. I see the trucks grill burst through the wall.

The scene replays itself but this time the truck does turn and rides on two wheels for a distance before falling over onto its side in front of the pumps. This time it does not hit the building.

We watch as large cylinders start to roll off the back of the truck. These appear to be gas cylinders, like O2 or NO2, and are about five feet tall. They roll off the back of the truck into the ditch between the gas station and the highway.

The man beside me is screaming about the #2 cylinders. I understand that if one of the cylinders ruptures, he would prefer it to be a #2 cylinder.

The tanks continue to roll off the truck and a #1 cylinder ruptures. There is a loud explosion and a huge ball of fire.

The man next to me was wrong, we wanted the #2 cylinder to blow, not the #1.

Dream 3: My parent are relating the details of their vacation. Mom holds a list that should contain descriptions of the places they visited. When I look at the list I see that it is just a list of expenses.

Mom tells me that the first charge is $76 for gas.

This is odd because my parents spent their vacation at my house which is a converted gas station. The pumps out front still work. I am surprised that they didn't just fill up here.

Dad explains how it was Mom's fault that he didn't fill up before leaving home. He assures me that he won't make that mistake again.

Dream 4: I am outside of a run-down gas station looking for my realtor. I approach the woman standing next to the building and, shaking her hand, introduce myself.

She giggles and starts talking gibberish. Another woman comes over and introduces herself as my realtor and explains that the other woman is the owner.

We walk through the station and I start making decisions about how the rooms will be laid out.

I don't want the master bedroom over the place on the floor where there are large oil stains. My assumption is that I will have carpeting in the bedroom and the smell of oil will seep through the carpet. If I put the family room there, the tile floor will keep the oil smell out.

I want to keep the place looking like a gas station and plan to restore the signs and pumps. From the outside it will not look like a house. I realize that people may be confused and may try to stop in to fill up. I make plans to put up a chain link fence around the property so people can admire the work I have done but so they understand that it is a house not a gas station.

It would be nice to speak privately with the owner before I agree to buy the place but the realtor won't leave us alone and I am not sure that I would understand her anyway.

Dream 5: I am across the street from my house / gas station. There is a woman standing in the road and an 18-wheeler coming toward her.

I try to explain to her that she has to move.

She is the woman I bought the house/gas station from. She doesn't want to move out of the road.

The truck is getting closer. She is in danger but there is nothing I can do.

Dream 6: I am in the yard of my house/gas station. A truck pulls in towing an empty boat trailer. The driver has to get the trailer through a doorway. The truck fits but the trailer is wider and needs to be flipped on edge before it will fit through.

It is amazing to watch a true professional perform what seems like an impossible task. He makes it look so easy.

Words from the waking world: I don't know where this whole gas station thing came from or why it permeated all of my dreams last night.

7/14/2005

Words from the waking world: Dream activity seemed high but I was unable to retain most of it after waking.

Recurring theme: Throughout the night I would awaken with the knowledge that there was data. I realize that this doesn't sound coherent but that was all that there was. In the dreams I would be doing relatively normal things; exactly what these things were, I don't remember. While doing these dream things I was consciously aware that there was data. I couldn't see it, couldn't identify it. The fact that data existed in all of these places had no direct impact on me and there was no urgency to this awareness. The data was there and I knew it.

Dream: Victoria was enjoying her new vehicle but was not able to sell her old vehicle. The new one was a high-end, luxury SUV with all of the bells and whistles. I was not impressed but she thought it was pretty special. Her concern was in trying to sell her old vehicle: a cream-colored Mustang with an ultrasonic roof and hubcaps. She excitedly explained to me how the Mustang worked like a convertible - it had no top - but that you could push a button and an ultrasonic wave would create a force that would repel rain and other elements. The hubcaps had a similar feature that allowed them to float near the tires without actually being attached and each cap could be rotated independently of the others to create a "smoogie" effect. She was very concerned that she was not getting any offers to buy the Mustang. Although I had no intention of buying the car, I asked her the price. Skillfully, she talked around my question and avoided giving me a price. It became very clear that she had no intention of selling the Mustang and enjoyed it more than the new vehicle. She was never going to sell the Mustang and she was not going to enjoy the new vehicle half as much. So, why was she trying to give the impression that the new vehicle was so wonderful (and only speaking well of the old vehicle)?

Words from the waking world: I worked with Victoria three years ago and recently stopped by my old employer and noticed a large Lexus symbol on her wall. She admitted that she did sell her big-old Dodge Ram truck and bought a Lexus. The word "smoogie" is the closest that I can come to the word she used in the dream. It was really just a guttural sound that had no translation in the waking English language.

7/13/2005

Last night had one long dream separated by bouts of waking and several smaller dreams.

The main dream was about work. The setting kept changing with each iteration of the dream but the basic theme was that I was being graded on insulting people and my boss - who, like the setting, kept changing - would give me a thumbs up each time I got in a good verbal dig on someone else.

The insults I was issuing were nonsense words and I felt really silly insulting good people but I wanted to continue getting the big old thumbs up. At one point I stopped consciously insulting people but kept receiving the boss' positive reinforcement for my negative behavior.

This dream was broken into many sessions. I would wake in between dreams and sometimes go off to other places before returning to this dream. One of the other dreams was that my roommates' car was dented. I was walking through the garage and noticed a dent in his car. Not too much excitement or intrigue in that one.

Another dream was a musical. I was in the bathroom and there was a ladybug on the rim of the toilet bowl. The seat was up and I started singing "Ladybug, ladybug, oooh-lady, ladybug" to the tune of Lollipop while dropping the toilet seat on top of the bug. I was not trying to kill the ladybug and it did not seem bothered by my actions. The whole thing was filled with happy-go-lucky, kiddie-musical kinda fun.

7/12/2005

In the waking world: There were many, many dreams last night. Most were short with no real kick to them. Others were longer and, although powerful, were fleeting and unremembered after fully waking.

Dream 1: A friend, Rick, needed a place to stay and we offered our spare room. He moved in and the room started getting messy. Really messy, with piles of dirty clothes on the floor. I was worried that I would not be able to get it cleaned ever again.

In the waking world: I did share a hotel room with Rick during a convention and the piles of dirty clothes in the dream looked a lot like the piles of dirty clothes in the hotel room.

Dream 2: I was riding in the back seat of a 1965 Chevrolet Impala, behind Russil, the driver. We were following my parents somewhere and they were getting ahead of us. The car would sputter occasionally and Russil kept commenting that if it died he would just leave it on the side of the road. This bothered me because I had given the car to Russil when I had gotten a newer one and was sure that whatever the problem, it was probably minor and could easily and cheaply be repaired. I tried to get Russil to play a CD of music that I wrote and performed but he was too obsessed with being annoyed at the car to care about listening to music. The road we were driving was an old country road with large, overhanging trees. Eventually, we turned into a suburban fast food place. My parents had been here but were long gone and to save time we decided not to eat and instead just licked the wrappers my parents had left behind.

In the waking world: Russil is an old friend that I haven't seen in years. He's a struggling musician who roomed with me for a few months. The 1965 Chevrolet Impala is one of my favorite cars.

Dream 3: Riding as a passenger in the front seat of a car (make, model and driver unknown) I am surprised by the drivers aggressive maneuvering. He (I am assuming that this is a man driving) tries to pass another car by pulling onto the left shoulder. As we come alongside the car I realize that this is a 1965 Chevrolet Impala and that the blonde woman driving is someone I recognize but don't know. Rather than being annoyed with our driving, she starts speaking to us from behind her rolled up window. Then he window is down and I can hear her asking us how to get to the Everglades Parkway. I try to tell her that she is nowhere near the Everglades and that she will need to stay on I-75 for another 100 miles and the Parkway will have signs but she is insistent that the road she is looking for is right in this area.

Dream 4: I wrote a song called "Heroes" and am listening to it being played as part of the soundtrack to a movie. Since I wrote it, I know the words and sing along.

In the waking world: The song sounds an awful lot like the song "Feelings" and even has that woe-woe-woe part... Heroes-woe-woe-woe, Heroes. Wonder if I can be sued for copyright infringement for plagiarising a song in my sleep.

7/11/2005

Thanks to Truman Capote for the title of this blogspot. Nocturnal Turnings was the title of a conversation in his book, Music for Chameleons.

Dream opens with me in a topless bar talking with one of the dancers. Since this is my first post, I really should do a better job of relaying the dream. Let me start again.

The dream opens with me sitting in a whorehouse talking to one of the women.

No, still not right.

The problem is that the terms "topless bar" and "whorehouse" have negative connotations for many and the dream had no negativity surrounding the place or the woman I was speaking with. In fact, the place was extremely comfortable and respectable. I know that the women working here get paid to have sex but that does not seem odd to me, it seems as natural as working as a cashier or a secretary.

Although the woman I am speaking with is nice looking, I can see that she has a propensity for putting on weight. I can see how her mother added weight as she aged and I can see the tell-tale signs of weight gain on this woman. Specifically, I see the cellulite on her mother's thighs and butt and I see small patches on the thighs of the woman I am speaking with. In this dream I do not like large women and am concerned by the possibility that after we marry, this woman will gain weight.

But even as I am thinking these thoughts, I am aware that we are totally compatible and I want very much to be with her. Not just "be with", I want more. I want a relationship with this woman. Even though we are just meeting and getting to know one another (I don't yet know her name), I feel like I have known her forever and that our future together is already happening.

From the way we are interacting, I can tell that she wants the relationship, too. There is nothing hidden between us. Even without speaking, we communicate.

I am feeling somewhat shy and we leave the house and go for a walk. The details of the walk are lost but we return with me feeling even more confident that this woman is really something special.

Back in the house/bar, I know that we laughed and talked on the walk and that feeling of camaraderie is still strong. We are close but not touching as we continue our conversations. People come and go around us. I know they are there but we are so intent on one another that we pay no attention to anyone else.

Note from the real world: I have been having dreams of marriage for several weeks. In dreams I have been marrying the oddest women - like Rue Mclennehan. The dreams are always pleasant, I am happy being married to these women.

At this point I realize that I don't know how to handle things. I do know that I am expected to pay for our time together and I know that her boss will be watching to make sure I pay but I don't know what is appropriate. I am not anxious about paying, I just know that it is the proper time to pay. Assuming that I am being generous, I give her $20. She accepts the money and, using a larger piece of paper to hide the bill in her hand, she pretends to count out $300.

Now, I am amazed that she is doing this. By pretending to count out $300, she is committing herself to have to pay her boss his cut on $300 (instead of the $20 I gave her). This seems incredibly generous to me.

Additionally, I am amazed that $300 is the going rate. I am not in the least bit bothered by her chosen profession and am somewhat pleased that she can make some money and contribute to our relationship. The fact that she is so generous and counts $300 instead of $20 makes me like her all that much more.

I am nervous about her possible weight gain but confident that she is the one woman for me.

Another note from the real world: I have never been in a whorehouse and have only been in topless bars twice so my frame of reference is limited.

The place in the dream resembled neither of the topless bars I had been in and appeared to be run more by Martha Stewart than by some Madam. The dream home was very clean, airy and incredibly comfortable. Sunlight spilled in from the many windows set high up in the walls. Stairways led up from the courtyard/living room that we were sitting in to a an upper level that at times had balconies and at other times were just open rooms or closed doors. The windows were sometimes above this second level and at other times part of the landscape of the second floor. At one point, her boss watched us from the top of one of the stairways with his back to a door in a windowless wall.

We spent most of our time perched on the edge of a plush, pillowy, cream colored sectional sofa facing each other. Our faces were only fractions of an inch apart but I could still see all of her. As we spoke, our hands would make gestures in the thin spaces between and around our faces but at no time did we touch. I did not think that it would be more comfortable to recline, sitting hunched over on the edge of the couch seemed the most natural position to be in.