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I dreamed I was walking up Robie Street. I walked past a construction site. They were building the Maritime Glass Heart Centre.
There were glass bones strewn all about the site.
Bones made of glass. Embedded in concrete, buried in the sand.
I dropped my iBook and it fell down the stairs. It fell end-over-end, bumpity bump bump, hitting every single step on its way down to the bottom.
At the foot of the staircase a woman bent down to pick up my computer.
Zoom in on her forearm: smooth and hairless and blotchy.