Dream of: 30 November 2020 "Pictures In The Wastebasket"     

 I own an empty, white, frame cottage on the corner of Front and Scioto Streets in Portsmouth, Ohio, across the street from the small Alexandria Park which overlooks the picturesque confluence of the Scioto and Ohio Rivers. Two separate women want to rent the house from me and I try to figure out how I can accommodate them and rent the house to both of them. One is a black woman and one is a white woman. The cottage is divided so that one room that is off to the side has its own bathroom. I end up renting that room and bath to the white woman, while I rent the other rooms to the black woman who also has a teenage child with her.

After they have lived in the cottage a short while, the white woman contacts me and says that she is moving out, that she cannot handle living there with the black woman and her child.

Now, I cannot remember the details of how I rented the cottage, but apparently both women are using the kitchen together. A conflict over the use of the stove has developed. It also sounds as if the white woman may be having problems with noise from the black woman's side. Since it seems that the black woman is causing all the problems, I think I may try to evict the black woman, but I reflect that doing so could cause problems.

I go to the cottage. No one is here. I go in and look around. While I am looking, I notice a waste can in the living room with some magazines and newspapers in it. I look through the wastebasket and I find what first looks like magazines, but then looks like a couple book dust jackets without the books in them. The dust jackets contain some beautiful, colorful, abstract artwork on the fronts. Since the dust jackets are being thrown away anyway, I think I might take them.

Then, I find a picture of my mother (1931-2015) in the waste basket. She looks perhaps 15-16 years old, and has a smile on her face. She is wearing a short-sleeve sweater, but she is naked from the waist down, and I can see her hairless pubic region. I have seen pictures of her when she was young, but I have never seen this particular picture. I am not sexually aroused by the picture, but I do find it interesting, and the thought crosses my mind that I may later be aroused by the picture. I decide to keep it. As I continue looking around, I misplace the picture, but then I find a similar second picture. I resolve to definitely hang onto the second picture, and then start looking for the first picture again. I am going to keep these pictures. I may want to look at them later. I continue searching for the first picture.  

Commentary of 01 December 2020

Today I finished reading Der Prozess by Franz Kafka. I wonder if Kafka found joy in his writing. I think he did. It may be that the only time he felt joy was when he was writing. I am moving on now from Kafka. Today I started reading the first half of "À l’ombre des jeunes filles en fleurs" by Marcel Proust. Now, I am focusing on dreaming about Proust. I have already had three dreams over the years in which Proust has been mentioned. I am surprised to realize just how much effect he has had on the way I write. 

good and evil may

be indistinguishably

knitted together

Picture: My mother circa 1947 circa 16 years old

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