I had a dream about you. Your skin was sandpaper and your armpits were hollow, filled with dark chocolate and prunes. You offered me coffee and when I said no you handed me black coffee with a note that read "12 reasons not to drink coffee". I knew we would get along.
I had a dream about you. My pee was cloudy, and I brought an umbrella to the urinal. You were the Coach of the Men’s Room, and you were giving me advice on how to be a better weatherman. But I didn’t listen, because I was the arrogant five-time MVP.
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 a sex shop.
I had a dream about you. You were Ginger Rogers, and you were trying to teach me to dance, even though my movements were as stiff as a mannequin. I think you tolerated my abysmal rhythm because I was naked, and my body was so sexy it could be used to sell clothes.
I had a dream about you. You had a bottle made of smoky glass, which made the contents appear mysterious, and I had the last smoky exhalation of a dead smoker in a Ziploc bag. I offered to trade my sandwich for your drink, but you said, “No thanks, I’m asexual.
I had a dream about you. I was a consumer, and you were a consumed. My grocery list had 10 items on it. Items 1-9 were cat food, and the 10th item was condoms. But not for sex—they were to store my leftovers, as Tupperware had been decreed illegal by the king.
Am I really admitting that my sister is determined to marry a man she has only seen once and doesn't much like the look of? It is half real and half pretense - and I have an idea that it is a game most girls play when they meet an eligible young men. They just...wonder.
I had a dream about you. It happened during the day. You used a pencil to erase the ink I wrote over the chalkboard since the professor told me 7 + 4 didn't equal 10. You were really cool about it; in fact, you handed me a bucket of ice. Apparently I needed to chill out.
I had a dream about you. You were a sunscreen salesperson, and you approached me and said, “Would you like to buy some sunscreen?” I looked at you like you were a curious insect as I replied, “No thanks. I’m still standing in my father’s shadow.
I’ve dreamed a lot. I’m tired now from dreaming but not tired of dreaming. No one tires of dreaming, because to dream is to forget, and forgetting does not weigh on us, it is a dreamless sleep throughout which we remain awake. In dreams I have achieved everything.
I had a dream about you. You owned a farm, and you grew teamwork, because yours was an ant farm. I was a coach looking to recruit some new fruit, but I decided to give your produce a try. I made the right decision because I ended up winning the 2014 World Picnic Championships.
I imagine you dream of me on the nights I dream of you. I'm always so confused by the platonic way we enjoy each other’s company. We talk about so many things that I can't recall when I wake up. How did you get me pregnant last night? We never touch in my dreams.
I had a dream about you. We went for a ride—you on all fours, and me on your back, and you didn’t like it when I kept calling you “donkey face.” I was shocked, and I said, “You should be flattered that I think you look like Miley Cyrus.”
I had a dream about you. You were so cute, and I was holding you for a long time. We went for a walk, happily strutting down the street. We saw a couple others but they weren’t having as much fun as we were. We arrived back home and I gave you a kiss on the nose and a bone.
Is this life?'Alice wondered, not doubting that the question was original and all her own. 'Is it life to spend your time imagining things that aren't so, and never will be? Beautiful things happen to other people; why should I be the only one they never can happen to?
