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 cigarette.
To fall asleep like a bird. To have a wing you could stick your head under, aworld of branches suspended above the earthly world, barely glimpsed downbelow, muffled and remote. Once you begin rejection your present state, there is no knowing where you can arrive.
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 Washington DC.
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.
Your life should consist of more than commuting, working, eating, surfing the Internet, sleeping and watching TV. Your life should be filled with purpose-driven experiences and projects that bring excitement, passion, energy, and authentic meaning and joy into your life.
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. 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.
They say teenagers can sleep all day. I often used to look at dogs and be amazed by the way they seemed to sleep for twenty hours a day. But I envied them too. It was the kind of lifestyle I could relate to.We didn't sleep for twenty hours, but we gave it our best shot.
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 can cross the boundless ocean just to save you, I cannot eat or sleep without you, I can take you on a journey to heaven and show you to the angels. All these are fake and absurd promises; Be sincere, walk up to your lover and say, honestly, darling, i can only do the best i can for you.
I had a dream about you. You whispered in my ear, and I couldn’t quite hear what you said because Beethoven was being deaf too loud in the corner of the room. I thought you said you loved me, but it’s also possible you said it sounds like a racehorse galloping when I pee.
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 be destroyed.
When I heard footsteps and saw nobody, I knew I was seeing a ghost. Seeing the invisible is like dreaming about drinking coffee to wake up, and that’s why I’ve never made love in the backseat of a car. I’ve only ever had sex in the trunk, while tied up like a kidnap victim.
She herself is a haunted house. She does not possess herself; her ancestors sometimes come and peer out of the windows of her eyes and that is very frightening. She has the mysterious solitude of ambiguous states; she hovers in a no-man’s land between life and death, sleeping and waking.
