Ron Silliman Dream #2 (2nd batch): Dolls

I walk into the game room and Ron’s on the floor playing with dolls.

“Do you know,” he says, as he glances up, “that Chaucer played with dolls. Coleridge too. Basho and Ikkyu. And when Berg translated that crazy monk he played with dolls too. Sometimes all night.”

Silliman pauses and stares at me profoundly and then adds, “A kind of method acting, ya know.”

“You’re making this shit up, pal,” I tell him, as I softly punch his shoulder. (and I’m thinking how nice it is to be so chummy.)

“This’ll prove it,” he says, passing the phone to me——and it’s a voice as though on a loop, repeating over and over

“Stevie Berg here.. Stevie Berg here.. Stevie Berg here.. Stevie Berg here.. Stevie Berg here..” etc etc

Finally, I interrupt: “Do you play with dolls, Steve? Ron says you do.”

“Come on over,” another voice replies (different from the one on the loop). “ And I’ll show you.” And it hangs up before I can say anything else.

Ron and I are trudging along a beach. There are beat-up dolls everywhere.

“These are all Stevie Berg’s,” Ron says, beaming.

And sure enough when I pick one up, and look closely, the proof’s right there on its ass in still-shining blue ink

“Stevie Berg’s.”