To sleep, perchance to dream�

I think, therefore I dream. And right now I�m dreaming of a hot bath and a warm bed. My Fantasy & Science Fiction magazine came today, and I have already read a short story by Albert E. Cowdrey in which a zuzu woman dreams of the fate of a nogood-white-boy would-be-rapper who lives the life of crime his favourite rap artists sing about (if you can call that singing). The boy ends up getting killed during a robbery, comes back first as a raccoon, is drowned by the same policeman who shot him the first time around, comes back again as a cottonmouth snake and is dispatched this time by a mongoose belonging to an Indian neighbour of the zuzu woman, then finally as a giant cockroach which the old woman splats on the wall just before holding a sceance for the dead miscreant�s mother. The boy�s spirit takes hold of the medium, but she manages to push it out of her, so he leaps into the body of his mother, who starts running after the zuzu woman in a murderous rage. They run down the street and bump into the very policeman who killed the kid twice, and the spirit infests him as he pulls his gun. There is a psychic struggle, and the policeman/miscreant shoots himself in the face. And that is the end of the story. Well, not quite the end. But if I told you that, I would be giving it all away. Best you get a copy and read it yourself, okay?

I contradicted the professor in my goddess class today. She really believes that the paleolithic evidence points to a mother/goddess religion, and I felt that the �Venus� figurines could not be considered proof. First of all, we have no idea what they were used for. They are found throughout iceage Europe, and could not have had the same use or meaning in every community in which they were unearthed. The vulva imagery on cave walls could indicate a reverence for the earth bringing forth all life, or it could just be paleolithic pornography. I didn�t actually say that, but I was thinking it. I have no problem with the idea of a �great mother� from whom we sprang and unto whom we shall return, but I just don�t see these artifacts as concrete proof of this. Part of the problem is that I am the only one who actually talks in class. Once I get going and stir up controversy, others eventually join in, but until that point there is a deathly silence after Patsy throws out a question. Are they just shy maybe?

I think I�ll pack it in. Lise really gave us a workout in belly dancing class tonight. We learned some new steps and ended up doing an enchainement. I actually worked up a sweat, which I never did last semester with Lisanne. I think I�m getting the hang of a lot of these moves. My arms don�t want to cooperate, though, and the rest of the class will have their rights up and I will have my left. Oh well. This too shall pass.

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