| Thinker : Dreams : Ballerina and Green Pigs | |||||
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I am driving my jeep up a steep hill to a cottage in the woods. I arrive, jump out and talk with the woman who lives there. She has a daughter I had hoped to see. the daughter is an inspired ballerina of great beauty and grace. In my car again, I hear the mother saying something like "I'll be damned if I let that man talk with my daughter." I am holding a bag like a Nordstrom's shopping bag. I am walking on a dirt road near a farm. I am forced to walk past some bull cows but there is no trouble. Then I am forced to walk past two ridiculously large pigs. I am a little afraid. One of the pigs shits a small slimy green turd on my bag. I keep walking on the planks the pigs are on. I fall through the wood because the pigs have pissed on it so much it has rotted. Under the planks I see tall glass beakers full of old white bones. I keep walking. I am almost past the farm. I must climb over some fences and manoeuver through the barn. I get stuck. I call for help. The farmer rescues me. The farmer and I are in what must be the farm house. He gives me a small elegant pistol and shows me how to use it. He says that I should just decide what it is I want to hit, point the gun at it, and I will hit it. |
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First written Fri, Oct 10, 1997 Last published Wed, Jun 2, 1999 |
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