Roxy Pays a Visit
Jan. 9, 1989
My friend, the writer Roxy Gordon, and I are standing beside each other, watching life-sized skeletons dancing in the air. The sounds of rattling bones surround us. Suddenly, I turn into an owl, and I hoot three times deeply, hoo, hoo, hoo. Then I’m awake in my bed, and I’m still hooting in the dark. Who, who, who?
Fly Me to the Moon
May 27, 1989
I’m in a small room talking with a monk. He doesn’t want to answer my questions. He’s called away and leaves me alone in the house. I look through the rooms for books, poems or writing of any type to read. I find a magazine and some old books about stars. I see a scroll painting sticking out from under the monk’s bed. I feel cheap and phony for nosing around behind his back.
Then the monk returns, and we are standing outside in the dark. There’s a threat of danger from somewhere, and the monk says, okay. Suddenly, we’re flying through the vast, cold sky with the moon on our right. We fly through space until we suddenly enter heaven. We turn around and fly faster, downward toward Earth. Then a spacecraft is shooting at us. The monk creates a cloud cover to enter Earth’s atmosphere undetected. Suddenly, I notice several hundred babies are flying behind us and they are in our care — all pure and ready to be born.
When we land on Earth, the babies disappear, and I say, “Be careful, they’ll try to get you.” Then I’m back in the monk’s room. We’re aware someone is searching for us, and we have to leave.