Medicine Object and Other Practical Uses for Sleeping Bags

I left the sleeping bag from my childhood in NY when I visited Cassie there in 2007, and she dragged it with her to the Graham Ave apartment where it stays (though she didn't). During my visit in early June, David confirmed that it's still there. He didn't offer it to me, and I didn't ask for it back. I took this as a mutual understanding about the absurd superstition surrounding it-- that it's supposed to be there, somehow-- like I left it in 2007 so that he could sleep in it in 2009 and I could ask about it in 2012, and that perhaps its full power has not yet been revealed to us. Any disturbance of its sacred placement might drastically alter 2014. Or maybe they use the sleeping bag sometimes. Or maybe I just didn't want to take it on the plane. Or maybe I've read one too many novels about Beverly Hills art dealers flying up to Canada to become the unwitting apprentice of an elderly shaman. But because he didn't offer, because I didn't ask, because I'm hell bent on observing some quasi religious "feeling" I have, and most importantly, because I have a camping trip coming up, James and I went to Big 5 to get a new sleeping bag. Its brown and lined with navy blue and white plaid flannel and that's all I have to say about it, so far.

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