Another dream of Tom last night. Joe and I were invited to his distant ranch somewhere in a part of the United States that never existed. When we arrive there is dust everywhere, and the yard is littered with old pickups and cadillacs. He comes out to greet us and his handshake is firm and fatherly. He smells like safety and god. He says some comforting things that only a perfect being would think of saying and leads us into his home. On the walls are old pictures, plaques, trophies for events that shouldn't exist. The place seems like the place where all good people go when they reach the end. There is a great sense of safety, calm and warmth. His wife, Kathleen, cooks us dinner. Some kind of steak or pork chop, gravy, heavy stuff. I'm so in love with this man I don't have the heart to tell him i'm a vegetarian and i DEVOUR the entire meal. My body understands this and does not rebel against me (thank you body). He takes me and Joe, who also devoured his meal, with a deep and overjoyed grin on his face, out to this abandoned part of town, to the post office, covered in dust, and leads us to a post office box. He pulls out a key from his front pocket and motions us over. He tells us we have to see this. He opens the box and it's suddenly morning and the Wise is meowing at me for his breakfast.
To photograph a ghost, stop picturing their face, and think of years ago.
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