From One Hand Clapping, dated April 5, 2004, this waking dream:
In restless sleep I walked the sinewy streets of an ancient city, searching for someone or something I had lost. The stone walls spoke in great waves of scented color, bearing a message of music and light. Strangers knew me, and welcomed me into their homes. In an outpouring of kindness, they showed me the graves they had long kept hidden in their hearts. Perhaps what you are looking for is here, they said. I wandered among the graves. I found there all the strangers knew, all they remembered, all they had forgotten, everything they had said, the deeds they had done, and the promises they had yet to fulfill. But the someone or something I had lost, I did not find. I offered them my gratitude. We wept together and sang together. Then they followed me to the edge of the city and watched as I traveled on. And I wondered: who are they? And how is it that I know them so well, but still do not know myself?
In the Forum: a long line outside a rural reading room.