So here I will say. I had a dream where there was a store, a scratcher, and crying. I was happy, there was Sorieda, and I was crying. I wasn't told anything, foo. I was just there crying in the liquor store.
And there's more. I was in the bed with a woman who was Diana, Angela, (my friend), and a touch of Brenda. I slept with her. Literally. A little kisses, a kiss of her right breast, and a little laying down.
Suddenly these men pop up, a little black boy first. The boy has a bald head. I he has on a black shirt. I think now it was Reverend Brown's minions.
They looked like Markeesh type followers. They were like jagged, ragged. I shook one of them's hand and almost grabbed his elbow.
"I don't want to grab your elbow, because I means I don't like you."
The man grimaced at me. See, this is a theme.
The others were lewd, in this semi red, semi blue yellow house/room. Suddenly a young man bursts in rude, and grabs me, I snatch back, ready to fight.
"I guess now is the time to teach you young snappers a lesson."
"I'm getting you out of here." says the kid, or young man. "No you're not, I say." Then I snatch back from his grasp.
He didn't all the way grab, and when I snatched away, I seemed to fall off a banister a little bit. Then I woke up.
Maybe that's what he meant. I didn't hit him, but I think I got a matter resolved. Some of those men I got.
So this is going on. There is a cleansing happening, and the prisoners do not want to be forgotten. So they had a runt go ahead. The person is not a runt to me, but then again, a prisoner is an elected runt. You didn't have to be there, but you are. So you are a runt to that effect, socially. You have to be kind and humble in society.
Abraham was there too, on my left. In his underwear. He had on black drawls. I don't know why he was there, but there was a TV set up in the front of me, like the Nigerian movies. I suppose I ought to watch Nigerian movies at least once a week, for a few moments. Then I can at least get some cultural understanding.
I'm not gay also. Deacon Tate kind of pushed up on me in the kitchen the other day, for new years. The old man, Griggs, when I stood next to him, I seemed to want him to give me a kiss on the cheek. I felt that. I felt that gayness, that affection. I felt that. I cannot give a man affection, but I can see how a weak man is lured to lunacy there.
It felt I wouldn't say right, but it didn't fee wrong. Perhaps it's an Italian thing, where you know, the man kisses you on the cheek. But in this situation, I have to (come up off that) realize there are more forces than one trying to stop the progress win.
I have to clean myself up. I can clean the world up, a little at a time. There is a reason I go slow. You cannot stop the tree, or ask it to grow faster.
Reverend Brown may have suggested by asking me to clean the outside of the cchurch those trees, that I am the only tree growing here. Not these palm trees, to connect with Palmer street. There is no need to connect those two streets more than they are connected now.
But I'm not going to tarry. I have to get back to work.
