I am engaged dynamically in various vivid habitats, and in a plethora of situations, mostly in the open.

I’m running quite fast, my efforts fully synchronized in the conditions I encounter. My legs are in full function, feeling pure, free-flowing momentum. My arms are extended in fixed wing position so that I am planing the headwind in precise equilibrium. The motion of my body is in a wonderously satisfying equipoise with the motion of the air, and with the ground below.

In a much visited gulch with a powerful waterfall, there are a few relatives, friends, acquaintances from various phases of my life lingering and at play. It is a leisurely place and pace.

I am now in a clinic with my father. A nurse draws blood from my left arm. No pain. We must make our way through an opening in the floor, climb down a perilous set of rungs embedded in a wall, to the lower level. I take this on without difficulty. My concerns are about him. I encounter another nurse who cues me that he can make his own choice—rungs or elevator. She then proceeds to draw blood from my left arm, exactly as before. I can feel the fluidity of the process and am aware of the powerfully animating quality of this substance. I am glad that plenty of blood remains inside me.

There are various other ordeals, including what seems to be a large group of businessmen in suits preparing for an initiation ceremony in a snowy field, in a square park in the center of things. Many of them are wearing blindfolds. The action begins with much slip-sliding and bumping together. Many quickly fall flat on their faces. The training is in plain sight for all to see.

I am now in a room, participating in an intimate circle. We know we are holding some of the inner secrets concerning Dylan Thomas and that this is the time to convey them: to make connections and get the truth out.

As I begin to wake up, a proprioceptive image consolidates:

ROCKET TO NOW