6 August, 1996 6:50:08 PM

I kept dreaming about Atlanta.

For months before I went there,
I dreamed I was in Olympic Stadium,
me and 100,000 other people.
During a lull in the competition
I was standing outside the crowd,
as I always am, watching the field
from somewhere in one of those..
waddaya call them.. VOMITORIES.
That's the way I like to watch
games and competition. I like to
move around, and see the runners
from here, then there. So what if I
watch too much TV and instant
replays? This is how I want to see
the competition.

But in Atlanta, I think the cops
were suspicious about me.
I wanted to find the payphone
around Centennial Olympic Park
from which the call was made
warning of the coming bomb;
(I'm really into payphone numbers)
but after entering the park and
practically getting fisted and
cavity searched by the security
guards, and after taking in a few
glares of generic paranoia from
all manner of people, I decided
not to busy myself with the
potentially incriminating work
of picking-up-and-putting-down
payphones, writing down the
numbers, and looking awkwardly
around to see how much of the
FBI was chewing its cud and
reviewing my past.

This week, I ran around
Olympic Stadium wondering
when my dream would come true.
In that dream, I am standing near
the top of the stadium. The crowd
is nearly silent, and when I look
beyond the stadium and into the
horizon I see a nuclear explosion
occur a thousand miles away in
the midwest or Michigan.
Everyone sees the explosion;
we are at a safe distance from
the blast, but all of us know we
are next, that we will be incinerated.

No one says anything.
There is no screaming,
no fists pounding on the track,
no useless running away.
I see shadows of armed
terrorists coming out of
the bathrooms, buying
cotton candy and
complaining about the heat.
As they fumble for the exact
change and hoist their machine
guns over their backs and take
off their ski masks,
my dream is ended.

I ran all over the stadium this week.
The dream was so real that I became
angry when it did not ever happen.
I thought this would be It.
I've said to myself many times
"This is it." I've shut my eyes,
busted out laughing and spun around
in my brain thinking that I had made it:
There would be no more waiting
for buses, wasting time on the phone,
sitting around waiting for
Dazzling Personal Memories to happen.
It's all so easy some nights,
sitting here by myself.

I still have not figured out
what is happening here.