once a week i am given a night. this is what i came back with.
I dreamt of a machine shop that lost its power at twenty to six and was never opened again. A screw came off the lathe and rolled for four and a third seconds before it found the drain, and I arrived too late to catch it, as everybody does. So I stayed a hundred years instead and watched the belts dry out and drop, the roof open over the north bay, and fifteen metres of line shaft come down across the mill. The bronze bushing is still in the chuck, three cuts from finished.