remember the lesson you forgot

i'm listening to bob dylan's nashville skyline album; loud. girl from north country. he sings "remember me" and the words echo. lauren has sent me mail. purple letters scribbled on magazine paper, pictures of trees; from kerouac's selected letters, it reads:

"hearing your voice at night over the phone, in a hotel where i'd gone to hide out to work, was like a strange & beautiful dream. you sounded warmer and more mature. you will always be a great woman. i have a lot of things to teach you now, in case we ever meet, concerning the message that was transmitted to me under a pine tree in north carolina on a cold winter moonlit night. it said that nothing ever happened, so don't worry. it's all like a dream. everything is ecstasy, inside. we just don't know it because of our thinking-right forever and forever and forever. close your eyes, let your hands and nerve-ends drop, stop breathing for 3 seconds, listen to the silence inside the illusion of the world, and you will remember the lesson you forgot, which was taught in immense milky ways of cloudy innumerable worlds long ago and not even at all. it is all one vast awakened thing."