Last night, dreaming an odd moment grappling with height, fear of falling from a pointed ledge. Then, stepping off into the sky, flying through the canyons of Manhattan, passing Tom Cruise on the way, and Gene Siskel, bless his heart, giving me a thumbs up.

More a tranquil eye? Perhaps. Somewhere along the line it opened, and I pulled the design inside-out.

Greg can't sleep, and walks the halls. I'm listening to Four Calendar Café for the second time this evening: it remains both atmospheric and poppy, and it is so like autumn tonight, with so much change in the air.