Statue Maker | Barbara Ungar
I am dancing in a room full of naked men. When the music stops we all stop, like Statue Maker. Some of the men have erections. I avert my eyes. When the music resumes, we all dance again.
Dreamed I was Prince’s girlfriend. He asked me to come onstage during a show and recite the lyrics to a verse he’d forgotten. We got there early, went to make-up; girls were twirling in small rooms. One said to me, You should write his bio. We looked at each other—Why didn’t we think of that?! I’m going to be rich.
I’m alone on the porch. I hear, then see a motorbike drive through the kitchen. I go to the open door. A man in the hall stares back at me, expressionless. I try to pull the door shut. He puts his hand over the jamb.
Someone is trying to kill her. The color-coded threat alert is on red. Why doesn’t she disguise herself and get away?
Night. Water’s edge. I plan to kayak to a camp, but have no light, so might not be able to find it. Plus I have no paddle.
A fragment fished from sleep: Shall I continue to be Barbara?