paul auster: the book of illusions

beautiful and sad

my last dream last night was very vivid. stephanie and i climbed a cliff made of cork and grown all over with moss. the waves washed up over us and i dug in with my hands and feet. we were very high up, but we laughed and held on tightly.

we cleared all the furniture off of the roof last night so the roofers could get at it. later i brought out a single chair and an ashtray and installed myself by the door to read the book of illusions. tonight i continued, glancing up to watch the heat lightning flicker. downstairs the boys argued over a boardgame, stephanie crocheted and uri and rebecca watched anime. even when all the noise and fuss irritates me, i enjoy the presence of my friends. i've been withdrawing more, not answering my mother's calls, my aunt's e-mails, i'm failing to feed the snake, who presses his nose against the glass every night, searching. when galen came over to make music with rebecca i bought cigarettes and went up to the roof. it'll pass, but what will have changed?