I dreamt that I visited Merwin at his large estate in the Caribbean. I helped him with his old dog, a black lab, not a Chow. There was no palm garden, but three large swimming pools that were part of the ocean. The water was clear aqua and lit as if the sun was beneath it. Merwin was kind and talked between nodding off. He was very old. We didn’t talk about poetry. We talked about his dog and plants and food which appeared on a tray. Then lots of writers came to show him their books. The small dark rooms became croweded and loud. One writer asked why I’d not shown him my work. Why was I even there? The writer wanted to know. I said I really just wanted to swim in the ocean and those pools. I pointed but the writer had already turned and started a conversation with with another writer. I walked to the edge of the pools and looked into the aqua light. They were like giant tide pools full of rock and plants. I wondered where the light was coming from. When it quieted down I told Merwin I hadn’t had a chance to swim. He said i must and that I should feel free to swim anytime