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Harvey and the Wolves
10/18/94

I entered a large white warehouse space with palm trees. I was looking for the man I love, a brunette long-hair named Harvey. He was across the room, levitating in an almost Christ-like position. Wolves ran at me so I climbed a palm tree. They followed me up so I had to climb hand over hand on a rope strung between two trees. Harvey was narrating events as I was frantically scrambling.

There was a large, doubled up, cloth-wrapped bundle precariously hanging in the center of the rope. My movements jerked the rope and caused the bundle to fall. The wolves leapt upon it and began tearing it apart. Harvey narrated that had I known it was his body and I was setup to hasten his demise... I realized it was too late and let go of the rope. I could so precisely feel the wolves ripping my flesh with their sharp teeth. I was sinking into unconsciousness, my body getting heavier and sinking deeper and deeper into my futon, trying to wake up but being too heavy, and then I woke up.

I was lying down and Mara was smiling sweetly and cleaning my wounds. I kept asking if Harvey was alive and she said yes in a hesitant way, but I couldn't see him.

Then, in my bathroom, staring at my mutton chop sideburns in the mirror... feeling ill, hating myself, trying to avoid the flashing images in my mind of killing a little girl.

I woke up for real and stumbled into the bathroom. In my half-sleep I was terribly disturbed, wondering if I subconsciously thought all my friends were evil?? WOLVES?? Who the hell is Harvey?? Maybe I shouldn't eat tuna fish right before bed.



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