Everyone was worried about Hoku. I found him in a cave, head between his legs, in a trance, unresponsive. It was something his dad had done to him.
Fire fell from the sky and onto our bodies.
At an event on a boat, Hoku approached, dressed in purple, apparently drunk, singing inappropriately. Everyone avoided him but I went up to hug him.
A week or two ago my dream also referenced Hoku.
Torrential rain. On the phone with Frey, who asked if I had had any dreams about Hoku lately. I read dreams I had written over the phone as I draped my body over my pregnant wife.
There was silence on the other end and I asked Frey if they were still there. They said yeah and excitedly asked if I wanted to get a “Euro six-pack,” which it is okay to drink in the day or at any time because it is “mixed and matched.” Frey said they wanted to have “brown and blacks.” I got Black IPA.
The back yard started to flood.
Waves crashed over the house.
A jukebox played perfect running music and I ran – away from my pregnant wife, my long lost friend and my long dead friend. A fat woman with a brown braid and dark blue polo shirt walked by with a cigarette and started dancing. She put out the cigarette, donned an apron, and went inside to her cafe.
