
I dreamt my mom insisted I drive two hours to a pharmacy because she had run out of placebos.

I dreamt my mom insisted I drive two hours to a pharmacy because she had run out of placebos.

I dreamt that everytime a high school friend of mine sprayed me with a fire hose I turned into a different one of our friends.

I drempt that I crouched down into a tiny confessional and it flipped upside down like a carnival ride.

I drempt that Bill Gates was crying in my arms and, to comfort him, I said, “You are my father,” and he pulled away and said, “That’s too far.”

I dreamt with the children’s nursery rhyme “Mairzy Doats” as the song track throughout my dream: Mairzy doats and dozy doat and liddle lamzy divy. Akiddly divy do, wouldn’t you?”
[For the uninitiated adults, “Mares eat oats, and does eat oats, and little lambs eat ivy. A kid’ll eat ivy too, wouldn’t you?”]





I dreamt that my daughter’s job was to stick her hand into dirty, smelly contractors’ work boots and straighten out the tongues.

I dreamt that my neighbor brought a pony home from the animal shelter and squished into the back seat of her hatch back to bring home.





I dreamt that I was swimming in a pool that had a long counter of coffees available. I swam passed, in ascending quality in my waking opinion, Starbucks, then Keurig, then Dunkin’ hot, then Dunkin’s iced, until I came to a refrigerator of sodas, and chose a Coke.


I dreamt that I helped three guys in Grateful Dead hoodies steal a credenza.


I dreamt Mariska Hargitay was lying on a bathroom floor dying but couldn’t reach the Comet cleanser that she needed to eat to survive.