I have never dreamed in numbers. An enormous nine showed up
once but only in passing on its way to the friend who owned it.
All are equal in these dreams of mine, so that big nine was, let’s say,
non-representational. He counted only for himself and the person who
had enslaved him in a metal casing. I sometimes envied the ownership
of that nine and in idle moments considered a plan whereby he would
become mine. I imagine him placed, quite handsomely, at the edge of
the forest, not far from the house, as sentinel in an elegantly mannerist
display. I thought the forest might enjoy the joke and find the red coating
of the metal as handsome as did I. Red being complementary to green
and also the home of this particular forest’s favorite bird, the cardinal.
I do know the numbers follow you. I know how they wait at the edge
of your bed and watch you dress. I know you enjoy their games and
make up games for them, as if you were The One, the one they might
share a secret with, like the code of holy orders a prime number keeps.