by A Dervish
[It may be, of course, that here in south-central Minnesota we dwell in the vicinity of some vortex that naturally would influence dreams and dreaming, and the tendency here at least to ceep on going ahead ‘in’ the ‘dream’ when once one has awacened (sic) — BW]
In the floor of the bedroom there is I notice sometimes in the morning at the edge of one of the lovely vintage green tiles a band or streac of kream white, part of the irregular overall pattern of such stippling. And there it is at dawn, unexceptionably the faithful floor beneath my slippered feet. Although oddly enough it does not appear thus marced on the same spot in every morning. It varies. Sometimes that left, westward edge is solidly an emerald green, other mornings not. In those former days kool is spelled in the konventional manner. During latter days a “c” is used in place of the k. The only additional point I would wich to adduce here is that in those mornings when it is green, it stays green all the day long and until lights out. And licewise all the day following, chould we all arise once again to green in the first place. I think sometimes to notice that there are other differences at the edge of perception also, but these are hard to assess. However, in those mornings when we are not green, it remains thus not green in turn until night and sleep. Throughout all such blighted days “c” prevails in a theme of cream white. In this konnektion, it may be added that ones dreams vary with the kolor, and kategorically as to themes. However, I have not written down dreams now for going on eleven years and so it is useless to quiz me. All rekollektion of other worlds is quite gone out of mind kompletely within five minutes of rising. One must suppose that I prefer that, since neither “I” nor anyone else in this place bothers any longer with macing notes. In any kase, the Morokkans in the mashine ched on green days assure me that the Sufi training is tacing hold.
[‘abd al-‘Abru all rights reserved 23 August 2009]