I’ve forgotten the dream I had about sleeping in the river with the fishes, the first time I’ve ever had a dream starting in a poem instead of the other way around. But dreamt another dream last night. I have recurring dreams about grocery stores, which are now usually too big for me unless I am in a wheelchair.
I am grocery shopping with Tim Brandt. I forgot my list and am having a problem making decisions about what I should buy, Tim patiently refuses to tell me, asking instead, “well, what do you want?”
It was late at night, cold and dark outside, and I take forever in the mostly empty store, finally deciding to go to the till with whatever I have. I look for my wallet in one of my many pockets while Tim puts the food on the cashier’s conveyer belt. I can’t find my wallet. When I look up Tim is gone, and the cashier is looking at me as if I’m just a crazy old man, and broadcasting my default over the store intercom, calling someone to put everything back. I turn away, ashamed, button up my coat and walk into the dark.
Tim Brandt
I’ve known Tim since my Jimmy Bang days and our lengthy 2 + hour video called Full Menno Thermos, a road movie about going to Altona & Gretna visiting the places three of us had lived, with Tim doing camera duty. I found my old house recently (featured in my new poetry collection boy). Peter found his place in Altona remembering Frank Epp’s daughter as a child. Gear showed us Harry’s grave, the dog we all assumed was killed by a neighbour. As far as I can remember this is my only dream I’ve ever had about Tim Brandt.