26 May 1994. wee. well as usual now im not so sure. I just had this little harmless dream, after having sex with Beth (which she said was beautiful, and I thought was kind of nice). In the dream, I was in a huge, drafty freight elevator, with fabric walls of a rubbery-canvasy feel over a metal frame. The elevator was rushing smoothly not frantically down, only not just down but in a continuous cycle, rather like a contact-lens washer or a film-developer. I could feel the breeze. I even rememebr thinking, We need to get exposed twice. So there was this monitor/mirror, and watching me was a woman, looked kinda like anne but not. I had to pretend to be Japanese, because I wasnt really supposed to be in the elevator; it was part of some research project or something. So here I was, talking to this woman and trying to sound Japanese, but halfway being silly about it, because I knew I wasnt really doing it well and it maybe didnt matter that much anyway. But then I glimpsed her eyes straight on one moment, and I thought suddenly, You know, dont you? as if she just could tell I wasnt for real Japanese. But then the next time I looked at her eyes, I thought maybe I had just made up her knowing, that whole thing had been just some kind of dramatic dream-story thing that I would have expected to happen because it sounds neato to say she just knew, because then it seemed like probably she didnt know. I couldnt really tell. Then the eyes flowed from being another persons to being my own, only i was still addressing them as if they were the woman. I said, over and over, chanting, softly, Look into my eyes, woman, look into my soul. Rhythmically, over and over. And I was staring into the (my) eyes in the mirror thing, and I could see them in haunting detail, down to imperfections on their surfaces. They were so blue, so close, so wide, so wondering, so unprepared, so unflinching, so frank and unpretending. Look into my eyes, woman, look into my soul. Now here I am, already thinking, how am I going to get out of this relationship thats a big three days old. I hate it when I dont feel it. Is it because it isnt the right person? or some other reason? why anyone would want to keep one journal for normal thoughts and one for deep honest thoughts, I dont know. I guess maybe it is just a trick to jar your mind out of the common comfortable habit of self-deception.