I’m experimenting with writing dreams. Here is one I wrote
the other day:
I was on the train one morning, when the man sitting next to
me began telling me about his dream.
He was walking through the city at night, under a big
overpass bridge. Under the bridge was a group of homeless people, dressed in
all sorts of crazy outfits and gathered around a metal trashcan fire. He
started walking faster to avoid them, but then one of the homeless people, an
old man, was walking next to him. They started talking, like it was the most
natural thing in the world, all about music and books. He was saying all sorts
of stuff about the importance of reading being overrated by the chauvinistic
media and that view being accepted by the angry mob. It seemed perfectly
reasonable to the man on the train and he invited him to his house for tea as
payment for his enlightening conversation. They ended up at the White House,
because for some reason the man on the train lived there. There was a big state
dinner going on and all the people there were wearing tuxedos including the
women, because that was more qualitative. When the two men walked in, the
dreamer could tell that everyone was wondering why he had brought along such a
disintegrated old man along to a fancy dinner, but the man on the train said,
“It’s OK, everyone, I invited him for tea.” At that everyone immediately began
applauding and giving each other expressive looks to show how excited they were
to hear from such a prominent speaker.
The speech began well enough, but turned into the homeless
man presenting his dissertation exploring the similarities between soap operas
and the Bible. A woman sitting next to the man on the train leaned over to him
and said, “You forgot to tell him this was a government dinner, didn’t you? Not a rational one?” At that moment
the after-dinner entertainment of a traveling circus streamed into the room
through the big double doors. Jugglers on unicycles were followed by dancing
bears, who were followed by a group of clowns in a little clown car. Through
the chaos the speaker continued, merely raising his voice a little to be heard
over the noise. Then the man on the train remembered that he had forgotten to
go to the grocery store on the way home. “I’m sorry, everyone! You’re all going
to have to leave; I just realized that I forgot to buy tea this afternoon.
Please forgive the inconvenience. We’ll try again another day.” And then he
woke up.
I sat and listened to the dream, laughing at all the right
places, but not really sure why the man felt compelled to share it with me.
When I got to my stop I politely thanked him and stepped off the train. I
stopped and watched the dancing bear drink tea on the platform for a moment
before leaving, and as I crossed the street everything got hazy and I woke up.
