3

 I'm riding in an old car as my mother drives. We pass a scantily dressed young woman posing in front of a house. I think someone must be taking pictures of her. I feel a strong urge to masturbate but don't want my mother to see. I keep looking back at the girl, touching myself under my clothes. Mom keeps looking back also, through the rearview mirror...
 In an elevator in an academic building, a freight elevator with a wooden floor. Suddenly the floor, which is just a plywood panel, flips over or collapses and sends me falling down the elevator shaft. As I fall I think, "I should have grabbed the panel and used it as a brakefall." Then and there the fall repeats itself, but this time I grab the panel and use it like a paraglider. I try to sail out of the shaft onto a floor where the elevator doors are open...
 I am in a darkly lit, trendy Brookstone type of toy boutique - books about Gödel-Escher-Bach, kinetic sculptures, the usual shit. A sleazy bullshit guy comes up to me and puts his arm around my shoulder, asking me if I want to find out about the play I am writing, or offering to explain to me how the performance went, and I tell him to fuck off...
 I arrive with companions at an isolated, two-story country house on a bright summer day. In the large rooms we mix uneasily with others already there. Some begin torturing men or animals: I am fixated by a macabre Bart Simpson doll strapped under electrodes that have burnt away its abdomen. A man like Christopher Walken arrives and is interested, asking about the sadism. He stalks me. We circle warily around a billiard table, then I flee the house. Driving through the country and into rolling hills...
 I woke up to someone singing "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..." and turned over, awake. My father was lying near me, on the couch, smiling at me. I started and looked again, and what I thought was his head was only a cushion on the couch...
 I hear about a mother who masturbated her preadolescent son, and he said "Thank you." That fascinates me and for a while I hang around her apartment trying to find out what other perversions are going on...
 Then she is in my room, lying under my feet on the floor, as I am studying or building something at my desk. I realize she is actually not at all attractive and I try to ignore her, but she strokes my leg and makes soft, liquid cooing noises...
 I kill Tom in a fit of rage. He has been menacing me on the street, taunting me in front of people, and ends by attacking me from behind, in a crowd, or attacking an old man who is walking near me. I take out a knife and stab him in the chest, my face pressed against his, and he stumbles backward, falls to the pavement and dies in a pool of blood. I melt into the crowd...
 I am walking my haunts. It's graduation time and people I know from grad school are celebrating in a smoker's lounge - leather chairs and lanterned lights jutting from the wood pillars. I speak with Mark and he asks me where Tom is. I realize the murder hasn't been reported yet. I wonder if I should turn myself in and explain what happened, but instead I stay and enjoy myself with the others...
 I listen to the Brahms B flat concerto, and want the second movement interpreted in a different way, with more energy in this passage, and a slower tempo in this passage...