writing

I was writing a PhD thesis. I needed help getting information. I kept asking, people, everyone about things: the meaning of words, what are the meaning of these words? I was lost.

I could only get to page 64. I was singing a song about only being able to write to page 64. I had done this before. Only gotten this far and then given up.

I'm relying on my friend Quint to bring me something important. A disk with a draft of the thesis. I left it someplace and he has to bring it to me. I'm very anxious about it.

Now, a friend is selling a house. I used to live here, across the street from this house. I come to see it. I'm surprised, they have left everything in the house. It is a huge mess. I wonder if the real estate person will clean it up. I go in to look around. There was a passage way up through th back rooms before. A place you could climb into where there were hidden rooms dug into the dirt. The wall where the hole was has been adobed so the hidden rooms cannot be found any more. I tell the real estate agent about them, I think she should know they are there, in the walls of this house.