24.2.09
I fell into the sleep of others without shutting my eyes. I wandered their thoughts as if they were hedgerow mazes. I daydreamed of unknown treasures, silvery or golden or, my crew seemed to believe, X’s on a map marking nothing but fish darting about in their Darwinesqueness.
Dreams, I thought, what lies, seeming to prophesize but offering only memory’s scraps and hope’s delusions and worry’s eternal discontent. No wonder the men slept best and sometimes only when drunk. I suspect the divers had their first drinks at dawn, exhausted from trying to rest, a ridiculous way to spend so many hours of one’s life. I knew that absurdity well; else, why was I sitting there without radio contact?
The men: I was talking to myself in their voices, seeing myself through their eyes. God, I hated them. I mean I hate them. I confuse my tenses because am I speaking of now or yesterday or tomorrow? All at once, it seems. All at once and none for all, timelessness a cursed thing. What good does it do us?…
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