Anyway, I had a filing cabinet--a four-drawer metal thing. It was red and old-ish. I was looking for a place to put it in my small apartment that I shared with my RL boyfriend and some random guy. I figured I might as well empty it a little before I moved it. I opened the 2nd drawer from the bottom and it was filled with mail that people had sent DFW. Crazy drawings on lined paper, little cards and typed things. Oh, it made me so sad. I took out the file and was going through things on my bed. I was not at all surprised that Dave had his letters sorted and filed. It was sweet. There was obviously a lot of care put into the file. It made me very sad and I kind of slumped to the floor in resignation. What sort of horrible world did I live in that someone like this had to kill himself? Suddenly, I was ATTACKED BY THE BLANKET. Only I quickly realized it wasn't an attack--it was a hug. The blanket was hugging me hard as I sobbed, and I realized it was Dave making himself corporeal via the blanket. That kind of made me sadder, but also made me feel a little OK.
Later, I was telling my RL BF, my friend Andy R. (who I haven't seen in like 20+ years) and some random chick about the experience. The girl kept interrupting to tell us about how she was going to quit her job at the ad agency where she worked and steal the biggest clients, including the ACLU. She had a black pen that she left on the table, and it bled all over my hand. Why did she think that her ad agency job was more interesting than me being hugged by a blanket?
Later, I was skating around without skates, petting skinny dogs. The air reminded me of Florida at Christmastime--damp and temperate. There were puddles. I went home and some ladies came over for a party and brought some cats.