Dismally partial recollection of this one. In the dream, I’m
upset because I attached tickets to a poetry reading to a paper and
someone, presumably one of my students, has ripped them off and made
off with them. (An unlikely event in waking life–you couldn’t get most
of these dunces to listen to poetry if you paid them.) Mendacious
Allegra offers some advice I’ve completely forgotten, but I remember
she illustrates this by showing me a lovely landscape painting attached
to an essay. I then go to a room that looks like a hospital room to
discuss this same problem with my colleagues, who occupy the beds. The
only one I remember or rather, I think, the only one with a waking life
counterpart is Jessica. She is sitting naked on one of the beds, with a
sheet covering her lap. Her arms are folded across her chest and I
notice intriguingly patterned tatoos spanning the length of each of her
forearms. Although her arms cover most of her chest, I can make out
that it is covered by thin black lines in a pattern that seems to
emanate from her solar plexus and radiate outwards. I don’t remember
what we say to each other.