| Chapter 3: | Dawn Arousal Holler |
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“Variations on the Word Sleep” (1987). I like the part about wishing I could enter you as sleep slides its smooth dark wave over my head, washing me in. I imagine walking with you in the poem, lost in the words, in a forest of blue green leaves. I dream about Atwood's words—wishing that I could inhabit you like air, as unnoticed and as completely necessary. Please read the poem online at http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16221.
I'm really tired and fading fast. I want to fade with you but am unable to do anything but imagine the imaginable as soothing and comforting. You know, I loved talking to you on the phone when lying down today. Thank you.
I've been thinking about all this writing I'm doing. I could start a book of memoirs! How about a novel on the professor/student relationship as curriculum discourse or something like that? It would be a voyeuristic peak into the crazy mind of a ranting lunatic and her beautiful, submissive teacher!
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April 21
I wish others could get the imagery I get from you. I feel so much pleasure, and encouragement from your thoughts and endearments. You really do build me. I feel a warmth that spreads through me, a filling and yet emptiness that never fills. It's not just your words (text) going into my head through my eyes, but the images you create that swallow me into you. I'm also talking about perhaps the strength and wonder of learning and realizing that I'm learning and being guided by someone who loves me as well. This is important, isn't it? This explains why some great teachers have loved their students as parents or guardians or as those with very vested interests. I really do think significant, transformational