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  My tears grown cold  Dreamt: July 15th 2005

And in the smallest voice possible that I could hear she sang softly,

 “My tears grown cold I wonder why

(I) got out of bed alone.

Morning rain clouds up my window…”

 It had a real subtle sweetness in it.

I gave her a hug. We walked to her house. In one room was a plain closet and then continued to look about. Her father said some joke about kicking out my family if something happened when they came in Kylie said, well, they haven’t been invited yet.

Kylie’s room had a single bed and a Nintendo which she was playing and a few clothes strewn about.

“I’m looking for something” I tell her.
Loking for something to remind me. *{like, if someone is special you expect some efvidence of that to exist in her house: maybe an awsome painting. Kylie Mineau was a piece of pop culture to me.

My brother had the phone and handed it to my mom. We were all in the van drivingnear a college. Tommy said, “it’s her Dido. My mom driving spoke a few normal words of greeting and handed me the phone.

I said, “hello” she said, “hi.”

Nervousness filled me talking to a pop star.

So what is interesting about today? Did you do anything interesting today?

Whatever she replied she did so quickly that I don’t remember.

What I do remember is that suddenly she is walking down the sidewalk.

Immediately hop from the car and ran next to her.

I’m Charles.                                                     I’m Kylie.

Are you really Kylie Mineau, I don’t meant to be…
Without noticing at all she begins to sing. Her head tilted down in a full voice as soft and sweet as a lullaby.

My tears grown cold I wonder why…

Wherever we were, on the phone, in the house, or walking she had approachability like, if I wanted to be friends with her it would be okay.

I was upset about something; maybe the way life was going or my decisions or situations or whatever.
I closed my eyes and began to glide up the hill toward the school building.

** Picture omitted **

Its possible to feel grass beneath my feat change to sidewalk when I’m beneath it and vice versa. I worry that I will run over students in my blindness as I ascend the sidewalk.

Apparently I have a photographic memory as I can see the sidewalk itself when I am on it. But I could not see but a blur of green when I was on the grass. I would glide along. It was possible the sidewalks were empty, or that I was knocking people down left and right. Since my eyes were closed I would not feel it if I was (sic).

Arrived at the front door of the theatre.

There were three members of a play, a rich musician who had written a great score. Another musician had stolen the score and sold it. A third was a singer who used the score who is a young lady.

The question was: Which of the three people was I? I had forgotten.

Notwithstanding, I was looking for the theatre to think and sing some. The theatre is off limits to me. The door is locked and a single janitor patrols the halls.

The janitor has a pull cart and many keys. He makes a lot of noise when he walks and a lot of noise when he stands in one place. Further along the hall is a grate. The grate has bars; one incomplete and one solid far overhead.

• climbing the steps to the floor with the theatre is very unusual. One never sees nor counts the stairs instead glides up them as a butterfly would and goes to the next room.

** Picture omitted **

well, after the janitor left. (he went into a side room where janitors go and locked it with a key.)

I ascended to the grate. I took my hands and began unscrewing the bars of the gate. It was tight of course and I wasn’t sure if could do it. But, in the middle of fiddling with the noise of the janitor began again. His keys clanking echoed throughout the halls.

Main problem was, I had obviously manipulated the grade. And, I was ten feet in the air. So, I turned around and sat on the grade’s ledge to block its view and the janitor passed by. Since he had noticed me, I hopped down and walked off so he would think I was leaving and waited for him to go out of sight.

* * *

I was somewhat certain I could sing If I got to the theatre. I would have frustratedly sang lyrics and written it does not cheer you up but does at least you can act frustrated when you are which is a step (???)

Dreamt there was a line of ants walking from Grandma’s kitchen to where our foolish are in the bedroom.








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