Six of us, eight bottles of wine, family-style Italian. I made a U-turn up 35th to end the night, and slept in Mike’s basement. Although I lived in his basement for a month 12 years ago, I don’t sleep right down there anymore. It’s like a cave, but I can’t sleep in it.

I dreamt about the weird neighbor’s cat, who got hit by a car this week and died. I only saw the cat once: a white, male Siamese. I pointed him out to Lily, but she couldn’t see him from the car-seat.

In my dream, he was pressed between two panes of glass. It was the same image my Yoga teacher used this week to describe how our bodies should be in Triangle pose (trikonasana).

Categories: Diary

Tags: life