I had a dream about you. We were in a kitchen shaped like Italy, and we were making burritos for homeless houses. We should do more things like that, and really make a difference indifferently.
I had a dream about you. Two empty benches sat on a man, and I jogged by but did not stop, because I knew if I did I’d fall asleep and that damn tortoise would beat me again.
I had a dream about you. We were at a table, and there were two empty glasses in front of each of us. We were silent and invisible. We were greedy for emptiness, and we wanted twice what nobody else wanted.
I had a dream about you. You smiled at me, and I blushed like a red rose. Then you started sniffing my cheeks and I realized you were a bee and I’d been deceived.
I had a dream about you. The flowers were blooming, but our love was wilting. I tried to water our relationship, but no matter what I did, you were insistent on leaving me for a gardener.
I had a dream about you. You tried to stab me with the pointy end of a football, and I tried to stab you with an extra point. I wasn’t successful, so I took my six points and I went home.
I had a dream about you. I watched you grow up, and though I enjoyed the whole process, it did get pretty uncomfortable sitting in the tree holding those binoculars all those years.
I had a dream about you. You were completely naked, except for full body armor, and I was lying on a bed trying to roll a magnum condom on a medieval sword. I wanted a baby, but you killed that idea.
I had a dream about you. You were whispering in Van Gogh’s ear, which was in my pocket at the time, so people thought you were storing secrets in my pants. The NSA got jealous, as they do with everyone.
I had a dream about you. You were walking on stilts, and my neck was as long as a giraffe’s. It was perfect, because every time I’d lean in to kiss you, everyone on the other side of the fence at the zoo would begin cheering.
I had a dream about you. You were writing a book on how to write a book, and I was reading a book on how to read a book. You thought we were meant to be together, and I thought we were meant to be in a library.
I had a dream about you. You were a shallow person, and I was a public swimming pool with no deep end. In my mind you thirsted for me, but you probably just thought I was a giant toilet that didn’t flush.
I had a dream about you. Due to the underwater nature of our relationship, I kept referring to you as Mrs. Fishface. You probably thought I was being racist, because you were in fact a dolphin.
I had a dream about you. We were out to dinner at some place fancy, like the Library of Congress. I ate a thick, rare James Joyce novel, and you ate a pig that looked like a congressman.
I had a dream about you. I was sitting on your couch, relating my succession of ideas on subconscious influence. I asked you what they meant, and you told me that free associations were a bad way to advance my political career.
I had a dream about you last night. I could fly. I was going to use this power to impress you, but you were too heavy to carry, so I won you over with my personality instead
I had a dream about you. I was a ventriloquist trying to share your fashion secrets, but you wouldn’t talk. So we put on a strip show for the department store sale, and I was arrested for theft – I took away your dignity as a mannequin.
I had a dream about you. We installed Dr. Robert Jarvik’s artificial heart in a mannequin and brought it to life, only to later kill it because a creature that’s all fake heart and no brain is what’s commonly called a “politician,” and must...
I had a dream about you. At first you were a mannequin, and I was a fashion designer. Then, inexplicably, we switched roles and I became the mannequin. But instead of putting clothes on me, you laughed at my nakedness, and you sold me to the owner of...
Writers are liars, my dear, surely you know that by now? And yet, things need not have happened to be true. Tales and dreams are the shadow-truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes, and forgot.
To awaken within the dream is our purpose now. When we are awake within the dream, the ego-created earth-drama comes to an end and a more benign and wondrous dream arises. This is the new earth.
