Kin of His
by Ann Bogle
His birthday Thursday marked the day, sixteen years ago, I returned to Minnesota from my domestic travels abroad. On Wednesday I dreamed that coffee grounds had spilled on my Buffet. I used my fingertips to wipe the grounds off the black wood. There was another clarinet, a silver one, that belonged to a man not in the room, that was clean of debris. Bob Dylan came to collect me then. He was a guest at a hotel. I agreed to follow him, and instead of going to his room, we went to the mirror together. There were green vines growing from pots and copper incense burners and beige and purple sheers billowing like kites. I took on his expressions in the mirror—he stood close behind me and we watched as my face became a kin of his.
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Author's Note
"Dreams from the Station" in Gargoyle 60, 2013.
Part of a series of dreams that has appeared at Annandale Dream Gazette, Lynn Behrendt, Ed., 2007-2012.
http://annandaledreamgazetteonline.blogspot.com/
"Dreams from the Station" collects three of the dreams and appears at Fictionaut:
http://www.fictionaut.com/stories/ann-bogle/dreams-from-the-station
Other stories by Ann Bogle
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GOOD.
GOOD.
Fave. Perfect ending: "and we watched as my face became a kin of his."
This happened (had to), somewhere *
Almost wordless fave, as I'm trying to fave without regret: "There were green vines growing from pots and copper incense burners and beige and purple sheers billowing like kites." left me with a desire.
wonderful...
The last line really made this wonderful.
Faved.
Sam, Jim, David, Marcus, Meg, and Javy, thanks for reading and favoring this.
What is the clarinet made of? This paragraph from "clarinet" at Wikipedia I think is sexy:
"The vast majority of clarinets used by professional musicians are made from African hardwood, mpingo (African Blackwood) or grenadilla, rarely (because of diminishing supplies) Honduran rosewood and sometimes even cocobolo.[22] Historically other woods, notably boxwood, were used.[22]"
Larissa, travel dreams are best.
This is magical, Ann. *
Thanks, Foster!
Ann, that last sentence--makes me ache. Gorgeous. Peace *
This line practically grabbed me by the throat and sizzled my little brain, “ I returned to Minnesota from my domestic travels abroad. ” Jesus... Domestic travels abroad. I like this very much. Please write something to talk me down.
Thanks, Linda. Steven, thanks for liking it. (I see domestic both ways -- home and nation -- and abroad as cultures within this "united" one.)
kin to me
kinflicks
*
Nice to see you, Gary. Thanks.
fab...*
Thanks, James Claffey.
On Tuesday, Bob Dylan received the nation's highest civilian honor, accepting the Medal of Freedom from President Obama.
Loved that clarinet clean of debris.
"we went to the mirror together"
*
Thank you, Gary V. Powell and Bill Yarrow.
I was also particularly enchanted with "we went to the mirror together." The whole piece leaves me with soft yearning. *
Thanks, Beate!
Super, Ann! I was transported this morning! In such few words. Fave!
So glad it flew, Heather!
I really like the idea of the mirror in this dream. Dreams are always a reflection of something -- and this is a reflection of so many things, all in a tiny but meandering space. Cool thing.
I LOVED this in such a Hotel California way.
All the great stuff has been said. Great story and I love "There were green vines growing from pots and copper incense burners and beige and purple sheers billowing like kites."*
Thank you, Michelle, Christopher, and John.
Dylanesquely surreal. Mr. Tambourine Man come to life. Wonderful.