So I've been diagnosed with some Dread Disease. Possibly cancer. It is never made clear to me.* I decide to head to Dee and Char's, because they have knowledge of some ancient folk remedy that might actually work. Secretly, I hope to hook up with Doctor A as well. Doctor A is wise.
Dino from work looks over my route. He says the route makes no sense, and I won't get to Dee and Char's house that way. Showing not a trace of irony, he suggests I should consider Google Maps.
I nevertheless follow my route and find myself at an impossible apartment, a piece of surreal estate. The interior is at once spacious and crowded. Conversations occur over skinny counters that serve no purpose. M.C. Escher assembled the staircases.
Doctor A is out of town.
"I understand you have an Exquisite Folk Remedy."
Char laughs that cackling, disturbing laugh of hers, and says, "we have the pieces." I express confusion.
Dee hands me a piece of paper. "You must assemble the ingredients yourself. Beware the challenge of The Sisters." In keeping with the tradition of fantasy quests, Dee gives me not the slightest indication who the sisters are, what challenge they present, and why or even of what, specifically, I should beware. Cryptic prophecies suck.
I can only hope the Sisters are not any of Dee's exes. Dee's exes also (not infrequently) suck.
My car, a fin-backed convertible, takes me to a 50s diner. Apparently, I'll find the Sisters there.
*About now I should explain what the heck I'm doing and also assure anyone reading that, no, to the best of my knowledge, I am not suffering in reality from a serious illness (other than yer basic mortality). On July 31/August 1, 2011, I experienced several dreams (about five distinct “chapters”) which I could recall, owing in part to the fitfulness of my sleep during that night, and the frequent awakenings. Now, when I’m writing, sometimes I need to prepare for the day’s larger work by writing something else. Anything. I noticed certain threads running through these dreams—a road trip, and diagnosis with a life-threatening disease. I thought it might be fun to write them out as though they were a narrative, elaborating on detail where it was missing. For example, I don’t recall the doggerel poem read by the swearing kid in Part One, only that it ended with the childishly enigmatic, "How much does your mother moan?" The rest is an approximation. The conceit of a specific quest the dreams implied. I have made the quest explicit here.