A huge chunk of architecture glides away and separates from the facade of a building in London. It's a double decker bus and I'm driving it from the way back of the top floor. Almost identical to a dream my mother described to me 20 years ago.

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Laura and I are making our way thru a series of vignettes, like rooms but not necessarily enclosed. It's hard to be certain of anything because it's so dark. In the second one I notice a miraculous white moth on the ground and go to pick it up. It ends up perched over my wrist, right where the dial of a wristwatch would be. It is elegantly shaped, with four wings that are perfectly white and luminous. I try to get Laura to come over and look at it but she is distracted with something. This infuriates me. Then the moth disappears and I am finally able to get her attention. I start to tell her about it and I have a sense of gratitude that she is listening to me. Then I realize that we are in the middle of a fantastic garden all of whose plants are perfectly white and shining from within with an intense white light. There is a feeling of miraculousness in the air. We walk around slowly and marvel at the strange foliage. Then we hurry into the third and fourth vignettes and all I remember about them is that they are both dark. As we move I realize that the vignettes are phases of life broken up into a quartet.

Steven is smoking a joint in the countryside.  "It's mostly sand," Larry had said before. "Bakersfield lizard weed." He's been here before and now he's bringing the whole family.

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I'm sitting on a couch at Eliot's in Chicago. I am loading shells from a paper bag into a bolt action Mosin Nagant. There is an older woman sitting near me working on some knitting. I take the weapon and aim it at a nearby window. The gun goes off but afterward I can't see any damage to the window or the house. I take aim again, this time at the metal awning near the edge of the roof. When I shoot the metal deforms in a very clean uniform way, like it's been industrially molded in the shape of a cylinder with a hole at the center. 

The woman is suddenly in my face saying that she can't believe I just did that. She's called the cops. I go into the other room and Eliot is standing at the sink. He is distracted, not making eye contact. I throw the bag of shells into an adjoining room and he says, "wait, I don't like the look of that."

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Riding in a school bus and I can see a nuclear weapon explode in the distance. The ball of fire expands until it engulfs us. I crouch down, want to make sure that the dust isn't coming in thru cracks in the windows.

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I'm looking down on a beach from a great height in the air and I notice that the waves have an beautiful iridescent sheen on them. I wish I knew how to surf. Then I'm swooping down thru the air and into the breakers. Skidding along the wet sand like a skim boarder a wave breaks over me and I get pushed under. I'm trying to body surf and I get the sense that somewhere there is a man who travels the world to surf. He is living exactly as he wants to even though it seems unconventional. I feel inspired.

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Instrumental hip hop beats.

I am setting up to busk outside of a venue in a junk yard. There is derelict, broken technology strewn across the ground. I have a sense of irritation with my pedal board. Or is that just the way I feel now?

Torrential rains in the city at night.

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We are at the top of Patterson. I look out to the bay and my eyes are like zoom lenses - there are two Great White sharks tearing each other to pieces in the breakers and there is blood in the water although I can't see it. Next, I'm in the flatbed of Taylor's truck and he starts to reverse down the hill. It has a camper shell that is somehow large enough for me to stand up with my face against the glass of the rear cab. He isn't looking as he backs up and starts to go faster and faster. I try to warn him. Then the street drops off suddenly and we are airborne like the Dukes of Hazzard. We land gently and Taylor is looking smug as usual.

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Some kind of supervision group or meeting. Julian bursts into song like in musical theater. His phrases are strong at first but when he sustains a note for any length of time it begins to sound funny and nasal.

Hanging with the beneficiaries. Shades of the prison yard. Andrew Jenkins is there but he's degenerated badly. He's become kind of retarded and is dressed like a Co Co boy. Grinning, he tells me that he has had gastric bypass surgery.

In a house in the Berkeley hills with a bunch of therapists and it feels like a ritual or seance of some kind. Julian is there. I have the feeling I don't belong there and once I make it outside I have to take a shit. I have to get rid of it. I start looking for a place to go in the greenbelt or people's yards but everywhere there is someone looking out a window or coming down the street. I cut through one of the Berkeley neighborhood paths and it leads across a rooftop under a canopy of trees. As I cross it I realize that the roof is made of stained glass and it seems dangerous to be up there. A tiny old woman approaches from the other end of the path and stops in front of me and points down thru the glass. Without saying anything she communicates that there is a young woman beneath it. Without seeing her I can tell that I want her.

Then I'm in a different neighborhood: a conflation of Berkeley and Brooklyn. I walk into a cafe and pass Jeff Goldblum on the way in.

With James in Korea. I guess it's Seoul. Walking through crowded, narrow streets past vendors' stalls selling implausible looking food. A vehicle is coming thru the crowd, a rickety trike with a small enclosure on the back - like Zampano's in La Strada but not motorized. I can see in and there is food in the back and a little prep area. A man is walking it by the handlebars and there is barely room for it to get by.

Suddenly we are at James' parents' house. We step inside and it's dark (kind of like a Schrader interior but not chic) and he says to me that his parents are out of town. We hear noises from behind a door and suddenly two children burst out of it and run thru the living room and out the front door. His nephews. I feel like we should look out for them but when we get back outside they are gone. Jered Solo shows up and is talking to our group but he snubs me.