Last nights dream. I wanted to record this one.
I'm crossing the Atlantic room by room, pushing myself backward as fast as I can, faster than anyone else can, the olympic record fast kind of pushing myself backwards on a kitchen chair. I'm going too fast I'm grazing the doorways, doorway after doorway, room by room of this hallway with open doors, door upon dark mahogany door, like a single doorway reflected in the two mirrors on each side of Many's barbershop, the barbershop I got my hair cut at every two months in 1977, and I'm going going - backwards through the doors, my legs are burning with lactid acid, I'm the fastest guy to ever push himself backward across this Atlantic Ocean corridor of doors and I know I'll reach England soon.
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