In the dream I was doing yoga in a class with mostly women, squatting, feeling overweight, with the sensation that my wang was poking out. It was, and I realized it must be a dream. I felt my body strain through the poses, aware of what I must look like, underwear and lower back-crack steeped in sweat. And then the class and dream were over, we toweled off, and I exited with the other students though none of them had faces or names. And I realized it was a studio I’d never been to before, possibly an old building where I once worked, and I was still in my underwear feeling fat, but proud of myself for doing yoga at least.
In the morning I opened my phone and there was a note from Charlotte’s fifth grade teacher explaining FLASH, a program with an acronym to describe sex ed, “Family Learning And Sexual Health,” a great program but maybe a bad name for fifth graders. Who needs more fuel for the fire? And Charlotte told us about it, but still has a hard time with the word penis, can’t watch films with scenes of intimacy, including kissing.
When I went for the coffee there was a wolf spider in the corner of the sink just sitting there, trying to get out. I dowsed it with water so it rolled into the drain trap, then cupped it with a British pint glass, slid it over a plate and onto the back stoop, where I released it.
And then I came back to the den, lit a candle and thought, I’ve started my day already with an act of kindness.