The first nap, I dream that people have let themselves into my place while I'm having a nap and babysitting the kids. My kids, younger, and these people, I don't know, friends of a friend maybe, and I should get up and talk to them only I'm trying to have a nap. The lake, it's got huge waves today, towering 20, 30 feet in the air, I can see them below the deck, the water's heavy, but not rough, the waves aren't breaking, there are no whitecaps, merely large heavy waves reaching up into the darkening sky...

The people, eventually they leave, then there is another group that let themselves in, they're waiting for a bus, I know them, took them on a prospecting tour of the Kootenays, friends of Marks, still, I'm trying to nap, and eventually they too leave...

And it's time to get up, and I dreamed that I was trying to nap...

****

That I'm somewhere near Creston, the marshy plains before ascending the Kootenay Pass, there are signs explaining the Turtles, the area, I have the urge to go prospecting, above the marshes is a mountain that I recognize from other dreams, with tea-huts and caves and crystals and gold...

But for now I'm reading the signs at the foot of the marsh, reading about the wildlife and first discovery of the area by John from Halifax and I'm wondering if it's the same John from Halifax I knew some 30 years ago back in London....

Now my desk, wooden, small oak desk like you see in every second hand store, it's on fire, there's a cold blue fire flickering around it's a foot on the base, I'm wondering if I've kept any liquor in the drawer that might have started this, trying to put it out...

****

And so, fragments of dreams poorly recalled and that make little sense.

I'm in a white room with Ari & her boyfriend, it's a hotel, he's sitting on the bed, looking away, not talking. The lights, they're too bright, there's no décor, just bright lights, Ari, she's wearing a black bustier, there's another one on the floor, she's trying to talk to me earnestly but I don't understand a word she's saying...

Now, outside, I'm in Revelstoke, not Revelstoke, it's a snowy night and I'm out walking in the snow by a long high building...

I go inside, upstairs, it's a Biere-Hause of sorts, Austrian, there are tons of people, busy, and I find myself in the Kitchen - where I meet Rossi from the old restaurant, I didn't know he was back, it's good to see him. Hugs, he's telling me he's just back for the season and I'm trying to think of a way to get him to stay until summer, the place is busy, busy, crazy busy...

I leave, a long walk through a bleak and snowy landscape and I'm trying to find the too-bright hotel room again, walking, I'm in Revelstoke not Revelstoke, it appears a bit like the strip of 9th Ave in Calgary that runs alongside the railway, it's a spiritual desert, a winter wasteland here...

I'm underground, the Toronto Subway, I run into someone I know standing outside the turnstiles. We talk, he tells me he's working, I can too, just standing there, people coming and going. And I'm wondering why we don't have uniforms, jackets like the other transit security people, and he's reassuring me, the uniforms are coming, we're both pretty shabbily dressed. Off in distance I see someone, older man, reminds me of Sammi from the old restaurant, Tunisian motherfucker who stole my daughter's vacation allowance, it's not him, but somehow reminds me of him, this older fellow, he has an accent I recognize, and a quiet dignity that Sammi never had...

I get bored with this standing by the turnstiles and go through, into a shop on the other side, I've got a pocket full of lottery and sweepstakes tickets I need to check. And the shop owner, a little East Indian woman with a part of the shop separated off with cardboard boxes, a half-living space, she's telling me that I can only check the one on this machine, and now I'm crawling around amidst all these other lottery machines that look like old pinball games, bright vintage and foreign motifs, trying to find the laser to check them all, there's hundreds in here, I'm not even sure that all the tickets have been drawn...

She - the shop owner - speaks with somebody that's just come in, middle aged, shirt open, unbuttoned, he's got a plastic fork stuck in his fleshy orange nipple. He walks outside, I follow him, he's talking to me while looking straight ahead..."That was real good", and I know what he's talking about, I've never tried it, too dangerous, addictive, but clearly it's done wonders if he can't feel that fork in his nipple...

I'm at home with my family, younger sister, it's a new house, Calgary-ish, and we're surrounded by storms. Looking out the windows - every direction, South, East, North, Tornadoes, you can see them emerging from the rain, sometimes 6, 7, 8 together, then the rain closing in and they disappear, little gaps in the clouds illuminate them in yellow/gold hues, then dark ribbons that wind and twist from earth to sky. 

I've got my cell phone, am taking as many pictures as I can, am calling my Mother over to see, my sister, she's annoying me, every time I point them out she gets a better picture than me...

Every window looks out onto a prairie landscape, now, a high-rise under construction, being shredded, girders coming down, a suburban house nearby is being torn apart, someone flies past the window in a dumpster swinging on a rope, these tornadoes are getting close and I pull away from the window, head towards the center of the house...