I Dreamed of You Last Night. I am haunted by nodeshells, like pronouns signifying other worlds:
I watch an episode of Mad Men and then leave to wander the land. I find myself in the dormitory of an unknown college. I'm told that the person who holds the Supervisory Position has gone bat guano brake fluid rats in the attic insane. We enter his room, and find a blond Muscle Beach type in white Mr. Clean T focusing glassy stare on the screen of his Apple computer. He has filled his room with uneaten tacos. Thousand of the Mexican treat sit on the floor, on his bed, on desks and atop other furnishings. A few lack fillings; he obviously fell behind in his Holy Mission. He leaves passively when the men in white Howie lab coats come to take him away.
Several students suggest I take his job, at least temporarily, in return for accommodations. I indicate the age disparity, but they consider me suited to the job. The student rep stands in her T-shirt and sweat pants and awaits my response. Her brown hair she has tied back unevenly.
Then the news arrives: e2 will be closing for good on New Year's Day, 2016! I log on. Everyone returns for one last time, the great fled noder flocks look in from their homes and social networks, and the /we-missed deceased noders, granted single-day reprieves, log on from the Great Unknown. Even Dman makes an appearance. The catbox floods with conversation--
--which I naturally, upon waking, cannot recall.