I dreamed that we were at Douglas Rd, and Mum was saying "untastic!" or "unfantastic!" to me. What? "Untastic!"
I'm not sure what you're talking about.

Turned out she had been asking me to fetch her books to read (I hadn't heard her/been listening), and she didn't want fantasy novels. I was going through all my books on the dining table, and looking for things I wanted to share with her. I put together a set of non-fiction things that I really liked about masculinity, the history of masculinity in NZ and related things. There was one book I liked so much that I had two copies of it, one 'good' and one for giving away. I wanted to give her the unblemished one, as a gift. But it seemed that one was already well-thumbed and I had already turned up all the bottom corners of the other one, marking all the passages that were about men and landscape, as a my own research interest.

But then the overall feeling in giving these to her was that she wasn't that interested anyway - they weren't what she was interested in reading.

*

I feel like this is in the space of the last dreams. But with the distant/disinterested mother again. The excitement about books is still located in me. And the mother's disinterest is isolating me, taking away the value and energy in what I want to communicate.