I dreamed again I was allowed to marry another semicolon. Our wedding
was conducted by San Francisco Superior Court Judge James Warren, who
kept saying, "I am not trying to be petty here, but it is a big deal
... That semicolon is a big deal."
Later that night, I dreamed that I discussed my marriage with Rick
Boyer, who said: "Like punctuation marks, milestones break up, to a
degree, the continuity of daily experience. And like those little
black marks, they add dimensions to the text of our lives, extra
meaning that otherwise we would fail to read. Nate's upcoming
wedding day, like a speed bump, to some degree sneaked up on us despite
the fact that we've been looking forward to it. What is it about
weddings, anyway? You have one marked on the calendar for perhaps
a year or two; yet, two weeks before the event all is madness and
pandemonium as both families scramble to get ready. ... Our coming 'big
day' reminds me that milestones - those punctuation marks of life - are
liberally dispersed for all and that life is not one uninterrupted
stream but a book with a beginning and an end. It has sentences
and paragraphs, set apart by punctuation marks, that add up to chapters
which sometimes we don't recognize as such until looking back later
over the nearly completed manuscript."
I dreamed again that I was in hell, forever separating the independent
clauses of a compound sentence, as if they were young siblings fighting
over space in the back seat of the family station wagon.
Later that night, I dreamed I was caught in traffic.
Upon waking, I was filled with the "immortal longings" that impel
"every hyphen and semicolon," as discussed by William Stryon in Sophie's Choice
Semicolon sign courtesy of Pixiewarp.
I dreamed again about a coordinating conjunction. It said the clauses
in our sentence were long and contained internal punctuation used to
separate long items in a series. This was what I wanted to hear:
it meant that I belonged in the sentence. But for some reason I
felt certain that the conjunction was lying.
I also dreamed that I had dinner and drinks with Michael Tomasky, who
said: "If I were linguistic emperor, not only would semicolons be
mandatory, but we’d all be writing like Carlyle: massive 130-word
sentences that were mad concatenations of em dashes, colons,
semicolons, parentheticals, asides; reading one of those Carlyle
sentences can sweep me along in its mighty wake and make me feel as if
I’m on some sort of drug. What writing today does that?
Some, maybe even a lot, in the realm of literature; but not much in
I dreamed again I had to make a speech. When I got to the podium, I realized I wasn't wearing any clothes.
Later that night, I dreamed far into the future, when I had become a
giant monument in the town of Dusty, Arizona. Tourists came from
far and wide to show me to their children.
Then I dreamed of Jorge Luis Borges' "predilection for the endless
sentence with semicolons as milestones along the route," as noted in Borges: The Selected Fictions
Intriguing dream. I love the concept of the monument... how did it feel being famous yet sculpted in stone?
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Original Content Copyright © 2016 by Craig Conley. All rights reserved.