Jogged by the idea of Breton's "Wake Phrases" (reading, The Feminization of Surrealism)

two nights ago now
Dream that we end up touching fiberglass, because someone doesn't do the right thing with the roller coaster--and a bridge?--and so we have to fix this, cure, by rubbing through and over our hands pebbles.

Dream of seeing Bhanu again, and speaking to Anne--in some connection to the question of being in Boulder teaching again like last summer, involving also a ditch we are all in or around.

home from CT
Dream that my boyfriend's mother dies--her empty chair at the table we try to ignore.

At issue as well are our malfunctioning phones. At one point I'm riding my bike up some side ramp at Coney Island--something I've never or yet to do--and I must get through to my own (mom) to let her know the call hasn't been dropped because, despite the busy signal, I've died, too.