About Blank:

Had a sit down with Mr. Dylan in my dream this morning.
The store owner said he'd be coming by as I had hoped.
I guess you could say that Bob sat at the desk and I 
next to it but I think that we'd each agree that the desk

was ours. It had been cleared and made available for our meeting.
He took the time to stop in for a reason. I think
the store-keep had vouched for me. Bob said, looking down at
me (because I was dreaming my chair sometimes slid
out and i'd be lying comfortably holding a clip board that
would fade in and out of my hands as I looked up toward the ceiling.
I was comfortable, like when you discover an author and the book 
proves suddenly to be wise and beautiful, and so you kick it back in to

first gear and savor. This was my comfort level.) Anyway
he said, looking over, past, and down at me, "yeah; I usually get my
(blank) directly from my dreams." (Blank) was songs or work 
or art or messages or ideas. I think it was all of those
represented through direct language, as in lyrics. Each of those words
went into me while no sound was actually made in that space
of time where a word belonged. "Yeah (said slow and sure, slightly high to low,
following that vowel out to express the gravity specific to such a disclosure in a 
way that the word "yes" could not do, and then letting the lips close

before continuing)...I get my (blank)  straight from my dreams." 
He was swift in and swift out, athletic in that weathered suit of his, 
but he was patient with me. His schedule (apparently tight) answered 
to a time frame that this meeting was unaffected by, as if when he got
to where he was going he could then occupy time in a different kind of way.