I am a school teacher. It feels like the first day. I am slightly bewildered, wandering the hallways, uncertain where I should go or what I should do. Another teacher passes with a few teenage retarded girls, who have crushes on me and clown around childishly with each other, and grasp my hand in passing, pretending as if they have lost their balance. I follow them--now we are outside--onto a hillside. We follow what gradually becomes a steep and winding path and they pass out of sight. The path becomes even more difficult, rocky and steep--it becomes a cliff face, where I find myself stranded--a long, dangerous drop below, a very thin ledge at the peak. And all the rockface is loose--nowhere to get a good handhold. I can go neither up or down. And I lack strength. I remember that I have recently been hit by a car, which explains the weakness in my legs. Suddenly a young woman appears, climbing over to me from the right--the direction I had been heading. She speaks to me in a very calm voice. She is there to guide me back to safety. The tone of her voice frightens me because it confirms that I am in great danger. Despite her assurances, I doubt I can make it. I am afraid. I wake up.

For your edification and delight, the following flotation devices are offered:

flotson - concerning duende and the portable stallion; musings on poesis in convenient, bite-sized chiclets.
mise en abyme - concerning the synergistic effects of Google and intoxicants; a prolegomena to any future metaphysics.
flanerie - concerning the cosmopolis, ubiquitous technologies and decisive moments; Bell, Bresson and Baudelaire, a triple threat in the age of Nokia.
oneironautica - concerning hypnogogia; an archaeology of sleep.



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