I've been sleeping badly, with night sweats and disturbing dreams. In one, I was wandering through a carnival cradling a sleeping infant whose name I'd forgotten, though I knew I'd chosen one for him. The incident sounds like nothing important, but in the dream I was distressed and embarrassed. And meanwhile, all around me, the rides flashed and churned.

I've been working hard this week, preparing for the teaching conference: rereading last year's conference notes and composing this year's, reacquainting myself with our featured Frost poem, conferring with faculty and staff, compiling lists, writing letters to participants, writing introductions for faculty readings, and so on and so on. In the interstices, I've been overwhelmed with end-of-year-high-school-boy-who-signs-up-for-everything-but-doesn't-know-how-to-drive activities, not to mention all of my regular spring homestead obligations. I'm leaving for New York on Tuesday, returning on Saturday; leaving on the following Saturday for Franconia, returning on Friday; then leaving for New York again on Thursday (this time for a wedding celebration) and returning on Sunday. It's a ridiculous schedule and I'm looking forward to all of it. Nonetheless, worries about forgetfulness and neglect do seem to be infiltrating my dreams.