A million stones, a million bones, a million holes within the chinking
I have not been sleeping well. I dreamed last night for the first time in weeks that I can remember. I had found used hardcovers of Gillian Bradshaw's The Dragon and the Thief and The Land of Gold, which in waking life I have never seen outside of a library; in a college town by the sea, I discovered a corpse in a bed of seaweed, slippery and unrotted, like a bog body. It was sewn within a second shroud of skin, pale and wet as sacking. A friend told me this was standard funerary practice in his denomination of Christianity, so I could stop carrying the head around in a fold of nori for the authorities to investigate. We reburied it in the black salt mud under the bridge where the tide had gone out. I guess my brain is basically all right.

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A woman with a bulldozer
built this house now carving away the mountain
whose name is your childhood home.
We were trying to buy it, buy it, buy it
someone was found killed there, all bones
bones, all bones
Earth, water, fire and air
met together in a garden fair
put in a basket, tied with a skin
if you answer this riddle, you'll never begin
--Incredible String Band: Koeeaddi There
Also: you were carrying around the head in a fold of nori--seaweed--but in Japanese, inori (a pretty similar-sounding word), means "prayer" -- so seaweed and prayer almost come together-- a nori inori--a prayer in seaweed: remember the dead in the dried remains of the sea.
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Glad to hear it!
Yes, cool dream. Are the books worth reading?
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That's the
Welcome back.
Nine
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nori noir
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I'm glad you're dreaming again, though I'm sorry for your not sleeping well.
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