Dreamlife

  In this dream, William and I
are checking into a fleabag motel (not so unlike, come to think of it,
the “Grand” Marina we lodged in this summer) off a barren, nondescript
road. I leave my belongings in our room and head out. As I’m leaving,
the manager approaches me and tells me privately he has some misgivings
about William’s reasons for being there. I reassure him that William is
on the level and explain what his legitimate reasons are, although I no
longer remember them or the manager’s worry. Then I get into the jalopy
we’re traveling in and drive off.
  When I return, I notice
William has dumped a ragged suitcase of mine in a pile of rubbish in
the parking lot. Without looking inside, I somehow know that it
contains a cadaver we had with us in our ‘suite’. (I don’t recall whose
corpse it is or why on earth we have it. Synchronistically, I dreamt
this the night before going to see Claude Chabrol’s La Demoiselle d’honneur.)
I’m not sure what my motivation is but I pick up the suitcase and bring
it back indoors. Almost as soon as I enter, the manager begins banging
angrily on the door. I’m not sure what his grievance is–that we’re
keeping a corpse on the premises? I’m quite concerned however–not
about being arrested (which doesn’t cross my mind) but about being
evicted. As crummy and generic as this place looks, something must bind
me to it, since I feel such unease at the prospect of having to leave.