Looking for the Ocean, cont. 3


Potter came to me in a dream, sweaty faced and manic. He was frustrated that I was on the wrong path. I was off the Ocean.

I tried to talk back to him but no words were forming in my throat.

I crammed fingers down my throat and began to pull at something. Up came a pair of pantyhose slippery with bile. Surprised, I pulled up another pair and then another, stopping at seven.

We stared at the glistening pile of hosiery on the ground and laughed.

At 5:30am, someone knocked on the door and I awoke. Opening the door, I saw nothing but an empty hall and a newspaper on the floor.

Later, after taking a shower and eating breakfast, I descended down into the Music Room.


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Filed under 1912, California, Ocean to Ocean Highway, Uncategorized

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