The Poetry Project

Notes on a dream

Lucien Spect

It was somewhat-to-highly inappropriate for me to join her, in the expedition to meet my teacher, her partner, at his classroom. He was not expecting me, only her, and so when I arrived (from the dungeon, which is where she and I had been together), he was wearing gym shorts and a baggy T-shirt. He was, however, planning to be interrupted from his studies, and seemed calm and unconcerned about my being there. The classroom, or perhaps it was a study, was a long, royal-sized rectangle, with heavy curtains in large windows, partially drawn. His desk was nearly in the middle of the room, a large, sturdy desk, with several stacks of books, large, but meeting the size of the desk appropriately; there was plenty of room for blankness. The type of chatter, rehearsed daily, between them, broke out slowly, in calm, spacey sentences, and it became clear that it had been difficult for him to focus this day.

“You know how it is,” he said, “sometimes,” he said, “you just sit here, and nothing says itself.”

Work from Boo: Ghosts and the Unconscious for Utopian Dreaming with Claire Donato & Adrian Shirk