Electric Grandmother

Maggie Croft's Personal Journal young spirit, wire-wrapped
spark electric grandmother
arc against the night

-- Lon Prater
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quick quick

Got home from up north today.

Lots going on.

But Rice is here for a little while. And we are dealing.


A couple nights ago I had the wildest dream. I'm not entirely sure what to make of it other than I miss anthropology.

I must miss anthropology a lot.

I was at this party in a this huge room, and I was thinking how strange it was because I'm never in the sort of situation to go to such parties. There was a lot of excitement, and I was incredibly excited and in awe. There was something about Connie Willis and being excited about her, and then I and a few other people were talking to William Gibson (who was insanely tall in my dream -- tells me what I think of him, evidently). At one point I was talking to two women -- one Native American and I felt I knew her, but didn't, and the other woman was a short, tough, grey-haired no-nonsense kind of woman who I knew but didn't know and later I was thinking how different William Gibson was from her and how surprised I was at this. (Because he was massively tall and thin and she was the opposite?) And then I was over where I'd been talking to William Gibson, and someone touched my elbow and said something about going and getting cake and I turned towards the area where this sage-green, square, layered cake was and there was this man who had touched my arm. He was walking toward the cake and then he turned and looked at me -- just giving me this look -- and in that instant so many things went through my head... He was tall and slim with broad shoulders, had longer black hair to his shoulders and brown eyes. He looked of Native South American descent, and some other things... He was wearing jeans, grey hiking boots, and a dark blue rayon-type short sleeved blue shirt. And I thought to myself, all at the same time, "He's such a player -- he's been a player all day," and "I bet he looks great with his hair parted in the middle" (it was parted on the side), and, finally, "I could love him. I could absolutely fall in love with him," and "Oh, this is bad. I'd better stay away from him as much as possible." And then we were eating cake, and it wasn't bad, you know? I think it had a big black stylized "C" on top. I think the C stood for his name -- I think it was Christian. (Which is also weird -- mixing anthropology and Christianity? A completely new syncretism.)

It was one of those dreams that feels different, that has a different quality. Sometimes such dreams with this quality portend events for me, but there's no way I'm ever going to be at a party like that with William Gibson. And so I think my subconscious is trying to tell me I'm still attached/attracted to anthropology (the Native American woman and the man), but it has a few flaws (some that could be fixed simply), and it may have a lot to offer (cake), but perhaps it's best if I stay away from it because... well... it's a player and it's not good for me to love it? This also explains Connie Willis and William Gibson -- they're science fiction.

Still, I couldn't help but think of the man in the blue shirt for the past couple of days. Christian, the embodiment of anthropology.

Ahhh... anthropology.

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