the dream courier ... visits

Last night Jean Vengua came to me in a dream. She's as elegant and beautiful as I'd always imagined she would be. Mark Young was there too although, this is perhaps peculiar, since I've met Mark but haven't met Jean - his visual image was absent. Well - such blessings. The sad news is, I don't remember the dream very well, only some of its constituent parts. I'm reading Doris Lessing's Mara & Dann and the main freight of the dream came from that. It was a long series of inexpressibly poignant disappearances of cultural artefacts from African towns. Everything from pieces of coloured cloth to words on paper was sifting away to nothingness. Contrast that with a highly cluttered apartment which, in its layout but not its contents, resembles this one where I live. We were making arrangements for an event of some kind. I'd like to say it was the photographing of the dream fragments before they disappeared but I'd be making it up. This organising was mostly being done by telephone but the phone kept getting lost under drifts of paper, books, clothes ... and then it, the phone, rang one more time, in the next room, and Jean came through from answering it to say it was for Mark ... and that's when I 'met' her for the first time. And it was good.