{"id":6,"date":"2005-07-05T10:37:01","date_gmt":"2005-07-05T14:37:01","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blogs.law.harvard.edu\/oneiros\/2005\/07\/05\/fancy-a-dip\/"},"modified":"2005-07-05T10:37:01","modified_gmt":"2005-07-05T14:37:01","slug":"fancy-a-dip","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/oneiros\/2005\/07\/05\/fancy-a-dip\/","title":{"rendered":"fancy a dip?"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><a name='a45'><\/a><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: courier;\">&nbsp; In the dream, I am in class<br \/>\nwith Steven A., the effeminate analytic professor who taught my Emerson<br \/>\nseminar the year before last. Or, rather, he and I are in a small room<br \/>\nadjacent to the one where the class is being held. I read him a poem<br \/>\n(Rilke, I think) I have in a folder. I guess he approves of it, because<br \/>\nhe tells me to go out and read it to the class. He goes ahead of me. I<br \/>\nintend to go in and read the poem, but when I look for the poem in the<br \/>\nfolder, I can no longer find it. It seems to be full of landscapes<br \/>\ninstead. Minutes seem to pass while I rifle through the folder. Then I<br \/>\nhear my voice reciting the poem from next door: S.A. has decided to<br \/>\nplay a recording.<\/span><br \/>\n<span style=\"font-family: courier;\">&nbsp; Then I&#8217;m walking through a<br \/>\nswimming pool that stretches indefinitely ahead. My feet are following<br \/>\nan underwater path. However, I reach the end of the path and my head is<br \/>\nnearly submerged. I look around and am relieved to see an egress from<br \/>\nthe pool not too far away. (In waking life, I can swim adequately but<br \/>\nin the dream it doesn&#8217;t occur to me that I can do anything but walk.) I<br \/>\nemerge from the pool and make my way to some apartments nearby. I don&#8217;t<br \/>\nreside there, although it seems to me I know someone who does. I enter<br \/>\nan apartment that is clearly inhabited although no one is there at the<br \/>\nmoment and begin to remove my soaked clothing. I am surprised that the<br \/>\nbody&#8211;specifically, the dark, muscular legs&#8211;I see in the mirror are<br \/>\nnot recognizable as my own. <\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp; In the dream, I am in class with Steven A., the effeminate analytic professor who taught my Emerson seminar the year before last. Or, rather, he and I are in a small room adjacent to the one where the class is being held. I read him a poem (Rilke, I think) I have in [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1226,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1500],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-department"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/oneiros\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/oneiros\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/oneiros\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/oneiros\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1226"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/oneiros\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/oneiros\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/oneiros\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/oneiros\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/oneiros\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}