Copious dreams the last two nights, but not ones amenable to narrative treatment. Someone asks me what I work on and I say "Lorca." He seems to think Lorca is a Russian author... I don't correct him; he seems very glib. Marjorie Perloff is giving a talk, and stops half-way through. She doesn't recognize me and I am too shy to approach. Shifting scenery and narrative content.
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