Waking Finnegan

“We are such stuff as dreams are made of, and our whole life is rounded with a sleep” ~ Shakespeare

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Location: zurich, Switzerland

Saturday, January 29, 2005

January 29, 2005


Dream of a vast theater in downtown Los Angeles from early silent movie daze; arena black vast with opera house tiers steep and frightful distances from the stage and screen. Plushy seats but itchy in my shorts and I feel a rash and scratch it furiously and I'm telling myself to stop or else it'll crawl up my crotch and 'Oh boy Jesus no need of that!'--looking for the movie to begin. Where is everyone? I can see a group near the stage from my balcony seat right under the projectionist cubby but hell they're so damned far away. I walk down the much-too-steep stairs to the railing and lean a bit to get a closer view and the railing gives and I'm holding on and the whole thing keeps unplugging from the barrier like some kind of heavy-duty toy part and I'm descending one big hitch at a time but my initial horror gives way to utter control and confidence and the railing is now a ladder and I can see the same group watching me amuse and amazed expressions flashing--now I'm climbing it like a trapeze artist and wondering what kind of trick to do and the projectionist is casting horror house shadows all over the place by watching me in front of the white light. I'm swinging and the feeling of control is total, like my mind and not my body is swinging the rail-trapeze. But my arms are tired now and I try to climb up but they're too numb and now can't even hold on and gripping with my legs now shit! what am I gonna do? but my legs-as-clamps manage to hold me and then come to rest on a cushiony seat and the group is now seated in front of me and turn around in unison like nothing happened and the lights go out and the MGM lion appears and roars.

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