::fragments::

I had given birth to a baby girl. I was at my mother's house, dressed in a white half-slip and long-sleeved white silky shirt. A cat asked me if I would nurse her. I knew it was weird, but looked around, figured I could find a private place, and said yes. In my childhood bedroom, I had the cat on one breast and the little girl on the other. I called the little girl Lupita.

Stephen and I were in the ocean playing with a bunch of other people, but when I saw the tide quickly head out, indescribably fast, revealing the sand and shells and animals as it went further and further out, I knew we had to make a run for land. We did, and we were the few to survive when a tidal wave hit the shore. We were just feet away on concrete, but it stopped on the shore and headed back out, taking all of our towels, wallets, belongings. I fretted for a moment, but thought for a moment. I pushed my hand into my pocket and found my car key. It was all alone, and it was all we had, but it was something, and it was huge.

The night before last: all about Pat.

Last night: I was marrying Anthony and his mother was there, helping me with my dress and the food. No details emerge from memory other than those.

9/19/06

"...I had a dream a couple of days ago that you were remodeling two houses. One was actually a small apartment in a city and the other was this strange one story building on a port. It was absolutely beautiful."

Night before last: I was driving my Pathfinder through what seemed to be a wash, in the midst of a flash flood. I drove remarkably well and though there were moments when I was afraid, I rode it out just fine.