Dreams
Let me just say real quick that I think Doug Martsch is right but everyone else is wrong—no one wants to hear what you dreamt about unless you dreamt about them, but they should, because aren’t surreal insights into your friends’ psyches way more interesting than, like, stories about whoever it is they love or like or fuck, or whatever? So basicaly in the dream nobody’d directly told me that the apocalypse was imminent, but people were clinging to stop signs and telephone poles and that seemed to be the general understanding. I myself was clinging to a fire hydrant outside of the massage place that was shut down my sophomore year of high school (turns out it was one of those handjob massage places) when from unseen holes in the ground there rose these vast tides of distinctively world-ending water, and this went on for a little bit until it just…stopped. And once it became clear that no real apocalypse was forthcoming and people started surveying the damage I realized: I’d lost my cell phone. Frantically I started picking through the debris of the pseudopocalypse, because buying an iPhone out of contract is very expensive and presumably normal rates would still apply after all this mess. But I couldn’t find it. And the scary thing is this: I felt no discernible anxiety about the absolute destruction of the universe and my puny existence along with it, but the moment I noticed my cell phone was missing that dream became a total fucking nightmare. Take me, but please, don’t hurt my phone. I woke up sweating through an undersized couch and reached for my phone even faster than usual.
