I had a dream about you. You wanted to go skydiving, and I tried to talk you out of it because it is too dangerous. I couldn’t risk you dying without having repaid me the money I lent you—plus, interest, of course.
I had a dream about you. You told me you liked roller coasters, so I introduced you to a midget who wasn’t tall enough to ride them, so you could feel the shame of living a life of such privilege.
I had a dream about you. It was raining, and you were anorexic and shaped like an umbrella. We fell in love like a desert has a dry sense of humor. I laughed so hard I got dehydrated and sunburned.
I had a dream about you. You were riding a walrus like a cowboy, and I was riding a cowboy like a cowboy. I waved at you, and you waved your lasso over your head. That’s how I got roped into buying a new car.
I had a dream about you. The sky looked threatening, and hail the size, shape, and color of boxing gloves started pounding us in the face. Luckily my mustache looked like Chuck Norris, and you were able to take shelter under my nose.
I had a dream about you. I think we made love, but I can’t be certain because the scenes were censored by the Moral Authorities. The thing that pisses me off is my grocery list was identical to the Blacklist, so I was starving throughout the sequen...
I had a dream about you. We were running on the beach, holding hands. It was a nude beach, but we were the only ones wearing clothes. You wore a bikini, and I wore my dead grandma’s dress—with my grandma still in it.
I had a dream about you. Of all the flowers I’ve ever loved, you were the one who looked most like a woman. The others didn’t look like men, unless you count my Uncle Butch, who looks like a rose.
I had a dream about you. I asked you, “I haven’t Heaven in your pants, have I?” and you deferred to your dad, who made me sign a waver and waved me off after putting my name on the waiting list.
I had a dream about you. You were shivering, and I didn’t know if you were cold or frightened. Being the gentleman that I am, I offered you a sweater woven from the wails from a thousand sinners sizzling in hell.
I had a dream about you. Aside from you, The Carpenter was also there. I was a cross between a hammer and a nail, and I was looking for a way to build myself up. You tried to sell me two pieces of lumber, but The Carpenter outbid me.
I had a dream about you. You left your popcorn in my microwave, so I decided to enact revenge by selling the essence of your stinky fridge as a fragrance marketed toward the same people who buy Kanye West albums.
I had a dream about you. You gained weight, but I didn’t mind because all the extra poundage went straight to your brain. You told me the meaning of life, but I was too skinny to comprehend.
I had a dream about you. You were the love of my life, if just for one night. I brought your body pure pleasure, and your orgasm sounded exactly like an alarm clock going off.
I had a dream about you. You were rich and I was poor, but I didn’t mind, because if I were rich I’d be trying to steal my own stuff, which is a very unproductive way to spend one’s time.
I had a dream about you. We were competing salespeople, selling love to the people. You gave away free samples, and I didn’t. At first you sold more than me, but then you caught HIV and died skinny and alone.
I had a dream about you. We were at a buffet, but instead of eating food, we were forced to eat our words. You were eating words like “Winner,” “Victory,” and Triumphant,” while I was eating words like “Macaroni,” “Pizza,” and “Me...
I had a dream about you. We were traveling in your car. You were driving, and I was securely fastened by ropes and duct tape in the trunk. I tried telling you my family has no money, but you had to find out the hard way.
I had a dream about you. You looked like you, but you also looked like a mannequin. And I looked like me, but I also looked like a mannequin. Between the two of us, we were too fake even for Hollywood. And as such, we were forced to reside in Washing...
I had a dream about you. You had just died, and I was debating putting your body into either a coffin or a shoebox. My decision was based solely on spatial concerns, so I chose the ashtray, because I thought it best to smoke your essence like a cigar...
Perhaps I lost sight of my dreams when I became an adult and resigned myself to acting the way adults were supposed to act.
