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  My first fragmentary
recollection is of being in my dad’s office and hiding away some secret
information in his briefcase.

  Then I enter a vast
auditorium (a leit motif of my dreams lately) and take a seat near the
front. Ahead, on a platform is Professor K., an analytic bigot who
dismissed me from my old school. Here, however, she is acting contrary
to form, imparting mythic wisdom. She asks about the lost continent. I
raise my hand and mention Atlantis but it turns out the allusion is not
to Plato but to another text. Then she tells us about someone, again,
not the canonical, not Odysseus, who spent years wandering in the
Badlands away from home. She points out on the map terrain where he
wandered, calling attention to the forbidding, arid, mountainous
topography. Then it is time for a performance. But in this hall, the
performers occupy the seats rather than the stage. To my right, I
notice Lind__oo and it seems to me she is singing rather badly.

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