i was strolling thru NYC and found myself in what used to be the vacant lot next to tower records, the one that had the ever-shrinking flea market in it. it had become an art installation made out of pennies sculpted into little waves that you walked thru, as well as fountains made of soldered-together pennies. kids were skateboarding all around and thru it. suddenly i remembered that this was what was in the lot before it was the flea market.
as i continued to stroll around i realized that i could see older new york like a shadow under the current new york. it felt as though gradually my eyes were being opened and my consciousness was growing, but i knew it was dangerous. i could see layers of wheat-pasted posters behind current walls and fancy buildings -- like an x-ray of what had been there before. i knew i was not supposed to be seeing these faded, peeling old layers. and i knew bad people in suits, a kind of NSA for people who remembered the past, were going to find me and take me away because i could see these things.
i escaped to the upper west side (!) and found that there was a whole area way way west that hadn't been built up and gentrified, that consisted of old piers and plywood and rickety staircases. i tried to hide there, where the old flyers and posters from long-ago concerts and poetry readings and gallery shows were right out in the open, there for anyone to see. but i could sense the shadowy government people coming, behind me, and i raced up splintery old staircase after staircase to try to evade them.
i realized i'd been joined by a little kid with floppy hair and a skateboard and he said, "come on, i'll help you; let's go to my dad's!" and it turned out that some of the staircases led to this beautiful apartment hidden behind all the plywood, completely invisible from the outside, and it too was full of the old posters but they were new, not faded and ripping and layered. it was a truly fabulous apartment -- big and tasteful and playful and full of light, with a view of the hudson river, with purple and pink and blue flotaki rugs (?) (they were awesome in my dream, shut up) everywhere and high ceilings, but it somehow simultaneously retained the cozy feeling of an airstream trailer -- in part because the walls were all round, but also it just FELT like an airstream trailer somehow. and wonderful music was playing in every room, and i could finally catch my breath.
and then the kid's dad came out to make us a snack and it was mike d of the beastie boys. and i apologized for bringing the bad men to his home, but he said it was totally fine, he'd been expecting them. and just as there was a knock on the door, he cut a rope leading out a window and i realized we were in a ZEPPELIN, and we sailed silently out of the city, safe.
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