I have two vivid dreams my first night in Phoenix.
In the first, I am able to put my hand inside of Chris, as if he has a womb. A cup of tissue sits inside his pelvis, like a bowl. Parts of the tissue are dying, disintegrating. He wants me to create a new, healthy bowl for him. This makes me impatient. I tell him that is his responsibility, not mine. But then I feel very guilty and ashamed.
In the second, I am visiting my parents’ house. It is a small one-story cabin, like Cullan and Alea’s house. It is decorated in white, but above the chair rail are the most intense, sparkly images of giant cartoon animals: Disneyesque squirrels, bears and a full, fun menagerie of critters. I awoke still very affected by the surrealistic, lucid aspect of the images.