Just a few fragments remembered from the last couple of nights, the longest of which was:
The pioneers of flight come for a visit. I am not sure they are the Wright brothers but I'll call them that although their flimsy caricature of a plane is nothing like the Wright flier. They enlist my help on leaving - they get a running start with their plane and as they go past I am to slap a contact with a large electrical cable to start their engine. I do so, but the engine doesn't start, and they have to return. On this return or perhaps a little later they crash and burn, killing both men and one of their wives, destroying the plane and burning up $700,000 in cash. Or perhaps it is all a hoax.
I am helping my father move some long heavy pieces of varnished plywood around some awkward corners and into an attic... Stainless steel swage terminals coated in viscous golden liquid epoxy - very like honey, dripping messily... Maneuvering a boat between two floats and castigating some people who are standing in the way... Driving down a hill past several pairs of people playing tennis in a rough gravel parking lot... A bay shore under a brilliant full moon, with small groups of people strolling, going out in boats, quietly enjoying the magic beauty of a summer night...
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