dreaming as Bill Burroughs in mid-October

6:15 am

dream of a quasi-institutional setting like a probation office or methadone clinic. going in every day, knowing that one of the other clients is an employee or plant. one is an old-time regular. he knows the score - the heartbreak, the disillusionment, the futility. he's called in to impress these things on some youngblood.

no one knows, except for the old-timer, that i no longer belong here. he and i share an unspoken bond. it is too late for him, but i have been spared his fate; i'm marking time until the karmic clock finishes winding down and i can move on to the next stage of my life.

i am there watching it all, present yet not really part of it, neither doing injury nor causing harm... but i do not know that i'm helping to prevent what is beginning to transpire.