copy & paste from email to andrea this morning:
“it’s largely faded over 2 hrs of morning things, but to tell you before it ALL faded…
dreamed you and i went to n— to see m—, and somewhere along the way in the arrangements he came to believe WE believed he was very poor and not doing well, through rumor or intuition or paranoia, not clear. only that when we arrived everything was fine and welcoming and very not awkward and we all seemd to be getting along fine, then little by little we began to notice all these ridiculous over-obvious signs and fronts he was putting up to show in what he thought was a subtle way that he was NOT in fact poor, or starving, or failing, but doing quite well. like, the apartment was just a regular apartment, minorly cool, average you know smallish with narrower windows, brick outer wall, high up, old wood flooring like in older apt buildings slightly uneven with a creak here and there, imperfect paint that was too bright in some areas from white being touched up, slapdash touchup, pretty wood baseboards but smeared with paint from touch-ups.
the kitchen/living room was divided by an island/bar type with that deep red, flecked-looking old-fashioned linoleum, but i remember a partial wall off to the left somewhere made of different colored translucent glass, and a big greasy-leaved plant in front of it. like things a guy would get to seem hip/domestic. this part seemed slapdash. we had put down our bags and taken off winter coats and you were sitting on the living room side of the island/bar on a tall stool/chair, i was slightly back in the living room settling onto the edge of a red velvet chair that used to be in my grandma’s house – i had time in the dream to absorb all this because m— was on the kitchen side of the bar, bustling around what seemed excitedly, and i was just on the verge of relaxing and thinking it was going to be a nice visit, and looking around (your hair was in a ponytail and you had on big silver rings, i was wearing very tall burgandy boots and a very similiar jumble of rings as yours. the suitcases were near me, they were black and exactly medium-sized and identical.
then m— stood upright on the other side of the bar, and i realized he was very nervous and wearing a dark suit with a bowtie, and holding a bottle of wine – he told us the year of it so that we would know it was very old and therefore expensive – that was when i began to understand what was going on. the round mirror that he’s always had (that looks like the sun) was over his shoulder in the kitchen, but when i glanced back over my shoulder there was a new very large black tv turned off, it seemed out of place like the hip glass wall and plant and suit and bottle of wine…. i got a sinking feeling in my stomach and tried to send you telepathic messages of what i was realizing but you were busy doing the same thing i was – looking around, but you seemed to be getting an odd vibe, too.
he opened the wine and we had it in uninteresting perfectly appropriate wine glasses – no one seemed to want it, it was all show, we just stayed quietly holding glasses and you suggested we go to dinner, mainly to break the silence i think. i agreed, and we simultaneously told him we would treat him to dinner – laughing talking at the same time, ‘let us treat you to dinner’ as a thank you for his hospitality, but he took it completely the wrong way and insisited he could pay, he was angry, he said he was plenty able to pay for us all to go somewhere nice for dinner and he was turned away from us, bustling angry, with all these money things to prove… you and i looked at each other in a sort of “what will we DO?” sort of way, but timeflash and we were walking on the sidewalk in the snow and m— wasn’t angry and we were going to a small bar around the corner and i knew some discussion my mind skipped had mended things for the time being, then we were in a very busy tavernish place with small tables and a crowd and m— was drunk next to me at the bar (for a moment it was a bar in portsmouth, i remember that now the name of it had manatee somewhere in it), his suit sleeve was touching my jacket sleeve and there was a hole in the elbow of his suit and he was telling me he was NOT poor, why did everyone think he was poor, and i knew he wanted me to tell you this, make you understand it, but i also knew you were at a table near the corner and i wanted to stop him talking so we could find you – it gets blurry here, just a jumbled bar scene.
oh my god i understand, i just read henry & june, the whole thing makes sense now…. WOW that was completely organic, how WEIRD……”