Vulture's Dream

You, Wendy, an unidentified black man, and myself were in a suburb of Boston and we just watched a play put on by elementary school kids in a park. There was a lake off to one side and many impressive trees. I think this is a real lake at a real place from my childhood, and I want to try and find it the next time I go to Boston. I think it is near Wellesley, but I'm not sure -- there can't be too many lakes in about a 10 mile circle. Anyway, next we were at a bar in the city. I didn't drink anything, but the rest of you were (not necessarily alcoholic). Then there was a raid, and everyone started running around, because they were arresting people. I just sat on my barstool, and urged you all to do the same, and just pretend that it wasn't happening. Sure enough it was like we were invisible and they skipped us entirely. Then just you, Wendy, and myself were at a bbq in someones backyard. It was windy, and this older woman with lots of jewelry approached me. She told me to pick up the record (from the turntable), and put a specific spot, which she pointed to, next to my temple. I did that without any effect. She said to do it again with the other temple, and then do it a couple of more of times. After the third time I got an incredible swelling rush that filled my entire body. I wasn't sure if it was good or bad, but after awhile it felt good. Then you did it. Now we were on the train going from Haverhill to Boston, and we had to scrounge up twelve dollars between us to pay for the fare, which we did. It was nighttime and rainy outside. The same woman from the bbq came down the isle. She whispered to me about the blue spraypaint. That it was magic, and that I should scrape off as much of it as possible and collect it. It ended there when the phone rang -- you guessed it, a reporter...

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