twins possessed by a super computer give excellent advice on the proper temperature of meat at a barbecue in a burnt out building. I ask the french girl to watch them. something about a corridor and building. My grandfather was there making model airplanes out of airplanes.

Ah shit.

Do you know how difficult this is? Dreaming it’s like Im carving a world out of ice. The details are delicate and beautiful and terrifying and crystalline. I carry these tiny ice castles back with me. But consciousness is like a desert and carrying these delicate things through the desert, well, the longer I carry them the less there is of them. By Noon there’s nothing. Some times I’m lucky and prescient enough to write them down. The words are like a copy of the delicate, detailed beautiful thing rough hewn in stone. They are far from perfect but they are there so that when I look a t the I can see the halo of the original.

At 7am all of those random details linked together they were connected
at 8am I still new why a computer had taken control of the twins. I also knew what they looked like.
at 8:30 I could remember what the french girl looked like and what her name was.
at 9:30 I still knew what color her hair was.

ah well