i_dreamt_that_i_dreamt_11 crOwl gavin tried to go back to bed with coltrane following him and making a nest at the bottom of the quilt lilly's grandmother had made. he tossed and turned, trying left side, right side, on his back, on his stomach, but nothing grooved. all he could think about was the empty spot beside him and the lilly-shaped one inside his soul. soon, he surrendered to the morning, turned the music on, showered, shaved his scraggly beard close, pressed his mop into place, brushed his teeth, and stepped into his jeans, animal collective t-shirt, and sockless, worn doc martens. he knew the waves were flat and non-existent from the online surf report so he decided to spend his rare day off in LA, still curious about the little circus ad, thinking he'd cozy up to the theatre and see if any pre-show activity was about. he had been to "the priory" a few times for some rakish perfomance art and remembered the buzz surrounding the place was continuous. coltrane followed him through the house as he locked things up and turned out lights, finally having to break the news to him that he'd have to spend the day alone under the shade of the mandarin orange tree in the back yard. the heart-broken dog put on his best ravaged look but gavin just chuckled. "here's a scruff from lilly," he said, itching him under the collar. coltrane sloppily licked his hand. "see ya, buddy boy," gavin, spoke childishly, "stay out of lilly's gazanias." coltrane's tail defeatingly beat the kakuya grass. gavin slammed the screen door and grabbed his bag containing laptop, journal, and a copy of "proust was a neuroscientist" admist cliff bar wrappers and empty bottles of tazo tea. he headed to the volvo parked against the curb under a towering palm tree. "fuck!" he said, turning the key and noticing the gas needle was nearly on empty. the engine sputtered to life acting as though it too had a bad dream. gavin yanked his wallet out of his back pocket. he knew he had a little cash, and was pleasnatly surprised he had a bit more than he thought. "yeeee-hoo!" he shouted and turned up the cd player. 071207 ... crOwl gavin drove slowly like an old grandpa man. a crash he had when he was in high school, stoned out of his head, where he nearly killed his current girlfriend always reminded him to be safe, careful, and to never end up as a statistic. he got on the 101 heading south and veered right to the sea, sighing contentedly at the flatness of the surf. anything two feet and higher would beckon him stronger than any drug, even the skunkiest, fruitiest bud. he swallowed, realizing that waves iron-ruled his life. he would be the first to admit it. whenever he was in a blue funk, lilly would tell him, "go surf," for she knew it as well. shredding, ripping, and filling the bathtub with sand was his therapy. even if his hands were so numb he couldn't open the door. he drove, allowing cars to pass him on both sides, listening to sufjan. he thought of lilly, getting ready for the funeral, silently praying she had the strength to make it through what he figured would be living hell. he knew her remaining family blamed her for the murders. i should have gone with her, he thought, hammering himself. i've got to get my thinking on her. always on her. she is my queen. he passed oxnard and camarillo, pausing briefly in his memory to think of his buddy garrow and how they surfed the shores together. smoking kb at the tideline in the darkness while a driftwood fire blazed. past the conejo, woodland hills, saugus, topanga canyon, mullholland, gladstone's, finally the big city. he made his way through santa monica and parked along pico blvd. he saw a girl with purple hair chewing gum. slinging his overstuffed, falling-apart, patagonia bag around his shoulder, he slammed the rusty volvo's door shut, thanking the tin can for the trip, and walked towards the ocean. he smelled salt air and garbage. "what's up homes?" a homeless man asked. what the fuck? gavin thought, depressed, as soon as i step out of my fucking car? he wore greased streaked clothes, salvation army twice over, way too much for the weather. his teeth were destroyed. "got a gift for the day?" gavin dug in his pocket and gave him seventy-eight cents. "god bless you," the man said, twirling around like a drunken ballerina. gavin entered the soiled-swept promenade that was venice beach, a carnival of the world's soap-cleansed but still dirty- flesh, stepping quickly along ocean walk past everyone who ever thought they could be an artist, past the oiled body builders, chain saw jugglers, the pimped bikes, and the propagandhi. he looked past it all to where seagulls circled silently above, gliding effortlessly. but even they were looking for something edible amongst the trash. eventually he reached paloma avenue where "the priory" stood, like a black bananna in a bunch of yellow and green ones. there were two vintage vw vans parked in front with their hazard lights blinking off and on like neon signs. both were painted as if by a classroom of children involved in a fingerpainting project with magnetic signs proclaiming, "cirque petite." gavin stopped and gazed, for this was his favorite thing to do in all of life, to simply observe what was going on around him. he watched a girl, about his age, with shoulder length dread locks, a lime green singlet to her belly and a batik skirt to her knees emerge from the side of one van carrying an elaborately painted trunk, too heavy for her. a man that looked like buster keaton followed behind her carrying a twin set of large, peavey speakers. gavin stood still, much like the scarecrow before dorothy discovers him, continuing to gaze. across the street he saw an asian couple arguing, flailing their arms about like windmills. behind him, two african american boys were on rollerblades doing astounding acrobatic moves. he decided to approach the dread-locked girl as she struggled. "hey," gavin called out. "are you guys getting ready for tomorrow's show?" he knew it was a lame question but he didn't know how else to engage himself. she stopped, as if his voice was a cool breeze and she suddenly realized she had to stop and allow it to blow across her sweaty face. "let me help you," gavin said, confidently moving up to her. she stopped and allowed him to take it, breathing out her exhaustion. "oh, thanks," she said, wiping her forehead with one hand. gavin couln't help but take in her simple beauty, as if it was a reward for this unexpected act of kindness. "sure," he said, lifting the trunk, he looked down at it and could tell it was hand-painted with stars and words, and the type of appearance to suggest an effort depicting passion, and a blind love for life. "i love this box," he said. it was all he could think to say becuase if later when he was chronicling the highlight of the day, that moment would be among them. "oh yeah," she said, like rudolf to clarice, "are you coming to the show?" "yeah," gavin, said,holding the trunk, his biceps bulging with the weight. all he wanted to do was take it where it belonged. he could see she had tattoos on her arm with russian words. "i saw your ad in the LA times." he wanted to ask her something that would establish himself as someone more defined than just a passerby, perhaps like someone who actually knew their shit. his mind raced like a hamster on a wheel. "are you in the show?" the girl took an end of the trunk and gavin couldn't believe how blue her eyes were. they reminded him of the sea in the early morning, even before the sun rose, when clouds still hugged the horizon like a wife who clings to her son just aftr she lost her husband to a long, debilitating disease. "i am," she said, smiling. "what do you do?" gavin asked. he tried to imagine what she would say. "i'm a clown," she said. and that's when gavin wished he was a clown, as well. 071207 ... unhinged the funeral whirled around lilly in a flurry of anxious activity. she thought she noticed glares from many family members but it could have just been the dank her and owen smoked at every juncture of the day on owen's suggestion. 'nice to know some things never change boo.' 'don't act like you don't want to be blowed out of your mind today lil. besides, you brought that absolutely amazing smoke from weirdo land and you expect me not to want to smoke it all up?' cooper was the designated driver for the day. 'hey you guys. save me some. and you know your brother lilly. he's the 'smoke it if you got it' type.' the church service was unnerving for lilly. gram was the only religious influence in her life. the only time lilly had ever gone to church was at her urging. something about church had always made her uncomfortable even as a small child but she went to make her grandma happy. the pomp, circumstance, ceremony, ritual, they all made her feel far away from the tentative feeling in her heart that she called 'god.' the priest of gram's church was vietnamese and spoke with a heavy accent. he had ministered to her even in her sickness, coming to the house to give her communion when she was too sick to attend because the priest understood what a devout lady gram was, the importance of her weekly devotion that was instilled in her by her orthodox parents. the father's homily was as always a little confused. although his broken english was better than when he first took over the congregation, the homilies especially could be hard to understand. the sincerity of his praise for lilly's grandma could not be mistaken though. at last, the tears streamed down lilly's face in an uncontrollable flood. owen grabbed her hand and cooper handed her a tissue with sad eyes. the pity only threatened to increase the flood so lilly looked out at the well attended service and the weight of someone's stare propelled her searching eyes. across the aisle, her great aunt carol was glaring at lilly's bare arm. lilly fidgeted to cover herself with the sweater she had brought with her. aunt carol shook her head and her antique jewelry tinkled. aunt carol whispered to the old man sitting next to her and he turned to look at her also shaking his head. owen witnessed the whole thing and just squeezed her hand. the burial was even worse for lilly. the cemetery was empty in the winter cold and snow. memories of the day her parents were murdered flooded her stoned brain. a moan escaped her lips and she fell to her knees. a thin hand roughly grabbed her shoulder and began to pull up. a distantly familiar female voice hissed in her ear 'do you have to make a scene at gram's funeral too?' owen's heavy hand swatted away their older sister's hand on lilly's shoulder. 'leave her alone tamara. just stop and leave her alone,' owen's stage whisper threatened to drown out the priest's voice as he dedicated their grandma's body to the earth. other family members began to whisper and point. 'all of you, please. not now.' the calming voice of lauren the oldest sibling settled them all down. 'we can at least wait til the obligatory pot luck at my house to start screaming at each other.' lilly felt her stomach turning over and her kneecaps beginning to go numb in the snow. she clutched owen's hand and he slowly pulled her up to her feet. 071207 ... unhinged because of the cold and snow, the crowd at the cemetery quickly dissipated. lauren came over to lilly and put her arm around lilly's hunched shoulder. 'i'm sure this is hardest for you.' lilly tensed in her sister's grip. 'oh lil, i'm not picking a fight or anything. just saying. i remember when...' lilly patted at her cheeks with a tissue so the tears wouldn't freeze on her face. 'you remember when what? when mom and dad died and gram was the only one that didn't hate me for it?' lilly successfully jerked herself from her sister's half hug. 'lilly....' lauren chased after lilly in the mounds of snow. lauren's high heels slowed her down. 'lilly, just wait.' lilly stopped at the desperation in her sister's voice and allowed lauren to catch up to her. 'damnit. there is snow in my shoes now.' lilly looked down at her high heeled feet and snickered. 'what?!' 'always were a slave to fashion laur. there is like a foot of snow on the ground.' lauren grabbed lilly's arm. 'i'm sorry lil. it was hard not to be mad at you when mom and dad died.' 'yeah, right. i was always fucking shit up back then. you think i didn't feel like it was my fault as it was?' lilly's voice was raising hysterically and she was once again moving out of her sister's grasp. owen came up to them. 'i know lil. i know. that's why i'm sorry. i mean really sorry. you were there. you had to see it. he tried to kill you too. so i'm sorry that i was so childish. i'm sorry that gram was the only one mature enough to take care of you after.' tears started to leak down lauren's face also and she grabbed lilly close and hugged her fiercely. owen put his arms around both of them. tamara stood a good distance apart from the bundle of her siblings. 'come on. we have to get back to your house lauren. people will be getting there. we can't have them waiting out in the snow.' gavin sat on a picnic table outside the theater. one of the children from the circus was playing with coltrane. in twenty minutes, the kid had coltrane prancing about on his back two legs and jumping over obstacles. gavin was amazed. it was like the little boy was talking directly into trane's brain. the pocket full of treats probably helped too. 'hey, what's your name?' the little boy walked closer to gavin, the whole while keeping coltrane on his toes. 'luca. my dad is the animal trainer. i like your dog. he is smart.' gavin grinned profusely. 'yeah. he is. how old are you?' 'nine. my father taught me this when i was six. dogs are easiest. then monkeys. i am not allowed by the lions and tigers.' the more the little boy talked, gavin realized that english was probably not his first language. 'dude i would hope not. lions probably wouldn't mind eating up little boys like you.' 'dogs bite too.' the little boy rolled up his sleeve and twirled in a circle to keep coltrane jumping after the fist that contained the treat. gavin noticed a nasty scar on luca's forearm. 'did a dog do that to you?' the boy nodded and tossed the treat up for coltrane to catch. 'i found a dog on the street like yours. he was not a happy dog. i tried too many tricks without giving a treat. he lunged at me. it was an accident.' a voice came from the side of the building. 'luca...luca?' 'i have to go. nice to meet you and your dog sir.' luca emptied his pocket for coltrane and scurried away. 071216 ... unhinged (oops) 071216 what's it to you? who go blather from