I dreamed I was typing this, getting this all down, on loose pages fallen from an old road atlas: This story is four hours. It takes place on a certain Tuesday. Across the bay one can hear thundering drums. It is said that the smell of smoke travels as far as P[ ]. The smoke comes into his room and reminds Shane of campfires when he was young, and lived somewhere better than here. Shane sneaks out and goes down the wet hill. He gets into a row boat and glides out across dark water. Over there, in a golden auditorium, a man takes his brain out and speaks to it, while Shane, with guidance from the man and the other people in the room, walks around, talks to people, falls in love. This is a mighty tall stack of paper! he exclaims, and a woman sitting there says its all the Greek they have to learn. Someone sitting behind her gets mad when he reaches out, embraces her, kisses her, falls to his knees feeling the perfect flowing love between them. He ignores the person behind them, because he knows this is right, and fleeting. It is said that even if they dont exchange your heart or your brain with someone elses, they have ways of helping you learn to use them better. My dad & my brothers and I were talking about it. I was getting ready to go to that place, along with Shane. (Earlier I was with Dean in a Kmart, and we were wandering around somewhat aimlessly but with an impending urgency.)