October 6th, 1971

the fugitive–

I just woke from an intense dream. I have only been in bed a couple of hours– from the dream, I would have gauged most of the night.

I am running. I am running scared from something– in the dream I know. In the dream, I was aware with an amazing clarity of my situation in life. I am a fugitive running– always running from the same thing. But what.

I am preparing to leave. Time is essential. Margie (most of the time my companion is Margie, although she changes occasionally into other girls– always returning to Margie) watches on as I prepare.

I am putting Mennen deodorant talk on my underarms– gobs of it– I spill it in the sink. I remember having a thought at this point as to the significance of my standing there washing gobs of damp talc down the drain. What is curious is that even after having poured too much talc on one– I repeated the error on the other. At any rate, I can’t now remember what the thought which I had concerning the talc– however, now in the waking state– or at least in a comatose state– I associate the situation quite strongly and definitely to earlier this evening when I was scrubbing the kitchen sink, after doing the dinner dishes.  

I poured quite an amount of Comet (green powder– exactly like the “Mennen” of the dream) into the sink– a roach ran through and I covered him in a heap of Comet. He continued to function. He ran on and on through the Comet– I poured more on him. How much more could he go on? What would it take to kill him? I was indignant that the bug wasn’t dying.

Suddenly I was taken very much aware of the reality of that situation– that I was enjoying the suffering of the bug. [Enjoyment of suffering– see Baths, Mon. Night]

I remember saying to myself– “There is no reason for suffering”

and pausing to reflect on the certainty with which I made that statement. 

I did not, however, make this connection in the dream.

I am in a large, flat, comfortable place– very efficient looking [But a home I think]

Solomon is meowing about my legs. I take a flat, black pan– fill it with a mixture of the talcum powder and water and fling it onto the cat. The cat, stunned, freezes for a second– not knowing what to do.

I am very collected and have experienced no emotion whatever while throwing water on the cat. My emotional tone throughout the dream is extremely collected, geared, wired– ready for flight (or is it fight?)

(Prior to this, Margie– or the girl– has made the comment that she wishes she could use Merren deodorant– but couldn’t for some reason.)

I was reflecting on the coincidence of the situation: her on one side of the room talking about the powder– unaware that at precisely that instant I was using it on the other side of the room.

Next, parting instructions– I am telling the girl [Margie mostly now] the various things to please do for me–

But over-riding ALL ELSE was:

“Please take care of Lady”

at this point I was truly using all of my emotions.

No more now. At present– that other world, that land of dreams is much more real to me than this bedroom– and the objects here. I shall return to that world.

Adieu–