Dream of Writing Workshop

 I was in an auditorium, in the audience. It was some kind of writing class and the teacher was an Asian woman with short hair. She recognized me and said something like "now that Jonathan is here..." She read aloud a poem by me, written circa 1977. It was in the Deep Image style, and it wasn't bad. Then she handed me a sheaf of papers, from about the epoch. Writings by me that I recognized somehow. The date on one page was 1847, but I realized it should really have been 1974. 

***

I was in my house in Davis. When I left and came back a few minutes laters I realized that I had time travelled back to a few years earlier. She had a different hair and glasses and looked more youthful. I tried to tell my mom what would happen in the future, about the coming pandemic, but she just laughed in my face. Every time I saw her again her hair was different. 

***

I had some take-out ribs. While transferring them to another container to be taken home I spilled something on the kitchen counter. There was some disagreement about that.  A guy who was there was going to take some of my ribs, and I was ok with that, but then he called me an asshole. I called him out. "You took some of my ribs?"  {Equivocal answer.] "You took some of my ribs?"  {Equivocal answer.] We went back and forth, I was getting fake mad, wanting to call him out. "Peter, you took some of my ribs and then called me an asshole." Now I was genuinely angry.