It’s a small boat and inside Yoriko and I are attempting to prepare a meal of turpentine soup. Reassuringly Jack looks to me with his lovely brown eyes and, moving toward the tiny wooden windows, I smile at him. Outside, in the still sea, is a mountain-island and rushing down; one thousand sheep roar toward our boat. I am falling inside and being tossed about a rocky shoreline… until I see myself with splayed legs, flat on a sidewalk by a cold blue river, wearing nothing other than a pair of black high heels and a wig. I am dead.

I hear a voice say, ‘She’s just a stripper anyway.’

There are no conclusions to be reached in dreams .