dream_neighbour epitome of incomprehensibility I discover that her name is Matta from someone's Facebook post, and when I meet her next, I tell her that. Laughing. "I thought your name was Mattea." In fact, I hadn't the foggiest idea of what her name was. She has a young adult son - in that and in her personality, she's a composite of two real neighbours, but she looks different from either: tall, White, dark-haired. 260503 ... raze she sits in a parked car with two squirrels straddling the hood. i ask her what she's looking at. "the same thing you are," she says. she asks me what the squirrels are doing. i tell her their arms are at rest when they're curled in. that's why it sometimes looks like they're judging us. she mimics their posture, fascinated. i follow her through the front door of her house. the carpet is blue with a floral pattern that only covers a small portion of the fabric. she writes the date at the crest of an unlined cue card in looping cursive that reminds me of the way my teachers wrote when i was in grade school. she asks for my name, address, and phone number. three things she should already know. by the time i get to the postal code, the blue ballpoint pen she's given me is out of ink. she says she'll have some space tomorrow. she wants me to come see her at nine in the morning. i tell her that won't work. not with the state my sleep is in. "we didn't think this would last forever," she says. then she sings: "you are gone. you can talk." i wake up to prove her point. 260503 what's it to you? who go blather from