Sometime in early October I began having dreams that involved Ron Silliman. At the time I was kind of worked up at how Ron had suggested legal action was possible against the creators of Issue 1 of forgodot.com.
At the end of a post on his blog Ron wrote 'Play with other people’s reps at your own risk.' I thought this was, of course, ridiculous-- and then Ron started appearing in my dreams. At first I was kind of freaked out. But I'm not someone who places too much stock in my dreams. Some people (nudge, nudge, Reb Livingston) believe that keys to understanding one's own psyche lie in one's dreams. I am not one of those people. However, I do like to remember my dreams. And when they're interesting I am quite intrigued. But, I see them in the way that I approach a movie or work of art or a walk in the park. Sometimes my dreams are just pointless. Sometimes, though, I think they are indeed interesting and amusing. I think this is the case with the Ron Silliman dreams I had, and that's why I decided to post them to my blog. And, luckily, Ron Silliman hasn't sued me yet-- what would he sue me for anyways? Dreaming?
From "Ron Silliman Dream #6 (2nd batch): Gorgeous"
I’m walking through tall, dry grass and suddenly Ron Silliman’s whispering to me:
“Remember when the days were long
And rolled beneath a deep blue sky”
I look around but I’m completely alone and, so, I keep on shopping. But when I reach for a carton of eggs
“But I know a place where we can go
And wash away this sin”
Again I look around——but, alas, nothing.
Then, while I’m unpacking, reaching deep into the sack for a bag of asparagus
“We’ll sit and watch the clouds roll by
And the tall grass wave in the wind.”
Again I look around and this time I notice a note on the refrigerator: “Come upstairs”--- and there are candles all the way upstairs and then down the corridor and all through the bedroom. I knock on the bathroom door:
“Come in, baby. It’s Ron. It’s Ron.”
And, there, rising out of a mountain of bubbles is the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen——a bit like Botticelli’s Venus, but so much greater...
Stepping into the steaming hot bubbles I take her, giggling, in my arms...
“Who knows how long this will last
Now we’ve come so far, so fast
But, somewhere back there in the dust
That same small town in each of us”
For more Klassnik dreams Silliman
Rauan Klassnik is the author of Holy Land.