Monday, March 14, 2011

N'oublie pas

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"N'oublie pas."

It was the first thought I had on waking.
It seems to me to be a terrible thing to think, 
because I have no idea what it was that I shouldn't forget. 

If it was part of a conversation in a dream, I've forgotten the dream—or all but a crumb of it. Dreams often leave a little scurf of ideas behind, like tidal debris on a beach.  

"Our bodies are our own doppelgängers." (July 22, 1994)

A scrap like that has some marrow in the bone. I've chewed that one for more than seventeen years. But "n'oublie pas"? Even thinking it leaves me feeling stranded. Even thinking it makes me wish I could forget.

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