This old thing?

This morning I had this incredibly visual and tactile dream in which I was sitting with a huge pile of every single piece of clothing I once wore. One by one I took them out and told the other person in the room, a kid from Wesleyan named Dan Zolli, the worth of the piece of clothing according to an algorithm founded on emotional and historical importance, whether it could be used to make a quilt or if I knew someone who might want it. If there was a good story or memory, which there usually was, I would reenact it as best I could. I woke up the first time this morning around 9:00am but had this strange half-conscious quasi-dream for another two hours before finally kicking myself out of the warm blanket burrito that is my bed these days. It's been 'freezing' in San Francisco (read: totally reasonable weather in which you have to wear a windbreaker), and I keep having to remind myself what a rude awakening it will be upon arrival to Ithaca, NY unless I quit being such a sissy and buck up.

I got this picture yesterday at The Apartment after hanging out with Kerst and Deanna and going to see Milk at the Castro Theatre. It's a picture of a strange sort of lineup-- a whole bunch of household things laid out. I think it's interesting because you can't really tell if they're coming into their ownership after being received at a bridal shower or something or if they're about to leave their ownership and into a garage sale or charity collection. My mom has implored me a couple of times over the phone to help her start routing through the basement and start getting rid of things. As my dream this morning helps express-- this notion, of getting rid of things, is kind of terrifying for me, especially since I have this new invested interest in looking at them to reinterpret our family's narrative.