9/4/03

I was riding on this ferry in the middle of a violent storm. It was getting tossed around like a cork, and the cars on the interior were being crashed into each other like in Cremaster 3. I remember wondering if I was going to die. Then a woman who identified herself as "an anthropologist" said, "you have to get off of the boat, there's an island over there and you have to go to it." The island was this sort of half pile of rocks, half glacier. There was a gate or a tunnel or something in it. The tunnel led to this place which I understood in some vague sense to be another dimension or another universe or something. There was some sense of it being "better" somehow. There were these long banquet tables and the people there were practitioners of some kind of weird religion.

M. was there. I was only there for a little while, and then things moved back to the ferry boat. It was more or less the same except all the cars were ruined piles of junk, but there were these leaflets tucked under the windshield wipers, which I understood to be somehow put there by the practitioners of the religion from the island. There were torpedoes and exploed shells and things lying around. I was trying to find my bags and stuff in the wreckage, but there was some understaning that the captain of the boat had stolen them and then abandoned ship.