I had the dream again the very next day. It was the same dream, except this time she was in it, which I can tell you really sucked. I didn’t think I would ever have the dream about her. I think it was my guilty conscience, or I should say I hoped it was, because I really didn’t want it to turn out to be true with her like it had with the rest of them.
Actually, I don’t even know anymore, what’s true and what’s not. I don’t even know if I care. Mostly, I just sit around getting high. The problem there is, having commenced from a point so low, said elevation typically only brings me back to par.
I don’t even know what I would do if I did get what I wanted. As if I could ever figure out what it is I want. Basically, I’ve come to realize I’m full of shit. Not that it matters, because everyone is, but I always told myself I was a cut above the rest. Unfortunately, it was true. I am clearly capable of achieving absolutely exceptional examples of self-deception.
In theory, I aspire to find a girl who adores me and would never let a shred of doubt enter my mind. She would be hot enough to keep me interested but not so hot that everybody was, and she would have sex with me every night so I could sleep without the dreams. I’m getting awful sick of the dreams.
Maybe if I could sleep without the dreams I’d have the time or the energy or the inclination to concentrate on the important stuff. But probably not. I’m sure I’d just continue wasting what little time I have like I’ve always done. I try to rationalize it, blame it on appearances, but the truth of the matter is I’m a self-righteous hypocrite. Maybe we all are, but I don’t see that being much of a defense, as we face alone our reckoning.
Sometimes I wish I had paid more attention to the classics. I read and reread all of the important ones, the Greek myths, Le Morte d’Arthur, Shakespeare. I read them, yet somehow I missed the message. No one is safe. Even a sword pulled from stone is insufficient protection. We are all betrayed from the start. It is fundamental to our condition.
Of course it was true. The human mind, to leave off the heart and soul but for their obvious inclusion, is incapable of invention. We are the greatest of plagiarists, confident in awarding ourselves a most undeserved pat on the back for our presumed originality. As soon as I awoke from the dream, I knew it as certainly as I knew anything. It was true, or would prove to be so, given time. I hated the world and everything in it, including myself. I skipped work and went straight to the cafe. Even if they really needed me, which they clearly didn’t, my fellow employees, to say nothing of the customers, would find my absence infinitely more palatable than my attitude.