Dreamed 1997/1/7 by Chris Wayan
A cold misty night. I sit in front of my parents' house, on the sidewalk, as if sunbathing. Moonbathing! The moon's turned silver and dim through the mist--I don't think I'll get a moon tan, let alone moonburned.
The front door opens. I thought they were asleep. My father comes out and sits on the front walk. My mother's slower. She's dragging out a leather Moroccan hassock, a round foot-rest. She plunks it in the ivy like a tree stump and sits on it.
I crawl over and somehow attach my feet to the hassock. My body immediately feels light as a ghost and starts swinging slowly around the hassock, as if the ivy's a clock, and I'm its sweeping second hand...
I say "Don't bother; I'll go right through you when I'm like this, it's only my astral body."
I wake up feeling alarmed. My spirit's still orbiting my mom, tied to her? Not a good sign.
Although... she is no longer getting directly in the way.
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