LOUSY DREAM that I'm back with June and am standing around in gray dull suites that cost a lot of money but are necessary as she's temporarily with "My Child" having to live someplace, the chimera of money-spending is now official on account of My Child, the understanding is now official on account I'm to be slave and goat to this all my life, no question any more of the bard and his apple branch,---also understood there's to be no love lost between us but My Child is supreme so I'm standing there, it's an interim arrangement, its located somewhere near that sad Sheridan Square of my dreams, she's got pins in her mouth for diapers, I dont actually look at the baby even once, dont know what it looks like, dont care but am somewhat apprehensive to look into all that radiance of flesh---

I guess I am haunted by the Radiance of her appeal in the pit---but already in back of my mind I realize it's impossible, this hypocrisy and adult hate superimposed on innocent foundations of children who should get a better building but mainly I'm sore and want to leave and am planning to get a duffle bag within the hour, throw everything in, and be gone by morning because she's already beginning to suspect my intentions and will call the cops again within 24 hours---

America: in Silone's Italy Bastiano throws chairs at this weeping wife, in America the woman has the Police State Telephone in one hand and My Child swathed in incredible bills in the other---Bastiano may murk and scream, but Milquetoast Jones the Sucker is a poor cunteater being devoured by the thing he eats, in the glare of white neons, with his balls cut off by the Amazons and Lesbians of the Support Court, Life Magazine, Good Housekeeping, the Bureau of the Interior and Dwight D. Eisenhour's serious countenance and manly fists---ah Kafka you never had it so good.

Also I've been playing around, or pursued by---a---sexy cunt---Alice Arsenault, or whatever her name, an evil doll with a hatred of June, she's trying to make me to foment girl trouble between them, they're Lesbians---I know this but I am amazed by the sexiness of this doll but smoke tea and try to really ignore her but spend most of my time trying to ward her off, we're in a room right around the corner and by God she looks no different than June in her snaky pre-marriage days with me---it's all gray, hopeless, I'm gonna put my head on the rail if this ever comes about---

--Jack Kerouac

EDITOR'S NOTE

I posted this dream just to confirm Kerouac's misogyny. Lots of his dreams show him in a better light, but here he really does blame women for, well, everything. During about the most male-dominated era in American history.

Source: page 40 of Book of Dreams by Jack Kerouac, expanded (2001) edition, City Lights Books. Date: estimated from sequence.

--Chris Wayan

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