Sleep Dream.  I’m out on the street in an old, working class neighborhood, like Elati, but more like, say, Highlands, One story, red brick houses, huddled close together, store fronts. It‘s alive with people I’m there, doing I know not what. Perhaps sitting at a sidewalk café. I notice a small procession moving down the middle of the street, half a block long. I get up to see what it is. There is a fellow on a gold contraption of a conveyance at the front, like a unicylce made into the knob of a sceptre. He is attired in fancy clothes, tie and tails and top hat, smiling. Like a carney. After him is a dark shiny box, rounded edges and corners, a slightly hourglass shape, horizontal, also on bicycle wheels. It’s a coffin. This is a funeral procession. It’s an old, old woman in the box, someone says. After the coffin, perhaps half a dozen more circus-attired folk on wheels. Very colorful. Like a Fellini movie. Everyone in the procession is happy, joyful, as are the onlookers. It feels like a festival, the cheerful marking of an event.

Dream Associations.   As I write, in describing the coffin, the image of a black widow spider came to mind. This dream visited me the night of the day when, with F, I visited Colorado Springs.