Friday, October 27, 2000

October 27, 2000, Armana

I dream I am walking into the kitchen of the apartment I live in. Then in walks a beautiful bronze-skinned woman wearing only long pants, like bluejeans. I recall that I have two new roommates and that one of them is named Deborah. I ask her if her name is Deborah. She says, "No, my name is Armana." She seems shy. She does not make eye contact with me but busies herself going to the cupboard for something and bringing it to the table to prepare. She is facing to my left and down at the table. Her shoulders are somewhat hunched over. She seems guarded and bewildered. I tell her my name to reassure her of our equal vulnerability. She asks me what is the meaning of the name. I say, "My name?" She responds, "No, my name." I am becoming as puzzled as she is. She is asking me to tell her the meaning of her own name. Her long brown hair is held up casually, perhaps with a barrette. I feel delighted and intrigued and amazed and bewildered to live with such a beautiful woman. She has a silver mark between her eyes on her nose and forehead, such as a Hindu might have.

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