Dreams.

I was sitting on a patch of grass next to an airport runway with a small group of friends watching planes take off and land. A very large white plane came down the runway with a downturned snout like the Concord but a much fatter fuselage, massive wings, and a sort of fishtail mechanism on the back that swayed from side to side to turn the plane. It was so pure white it sparkled in the sun and we were all mesmerized by it. After it took off, it turned and circled back, got lower and lower and then crashed nearby in a cloud of dust and debris and smoke. A moment later it exploded with a boom and a bigger cloud rose. It was gorgeous and some of the group got out their phones to take pictures. My only thought was “Damn! I can’t believe I didn’t bring my phone.”

Later we had a party at an old Victorian house with big rooms and a yard. At first it was just my friends but soon there were hundreds of people in the house and yard, and live music, food everywhere, vats of soft ice cream, cookies so undercooked they turned liquid when you tried to pick them up. We were drinking gin and tonics and we smoked lots of pot. My friend Kristin arrived late and brought whippets. When she handed me one, I made a big show of saying to the room, “I haven’t done whippets since I was in college!” and immediately I felt embarrassed. My friend Martha, in a minidress and blue pantyhose, was dancing alone in the middle of the room; she made a big flourish at the end of the song and finished on the floor with her skirt hiked up too high. She came and sat next to me on the couch and worried she was a little too stoned but I told her she wasn’t and she put her head on my shoulder and I stroked her hair and told her not to panic, I’d take care of her.