I’ve been having amazing/crazy dreams lately, it might be because I have a different body growing inside of me, influencing me as I influence it.
Last night I dreamt of a normal man who had had a normal life with a wife and a house.
He died and before he did die, he buried some of his short stories and some of his compositions for piano. Darwin, Vin and I found the box , buried in the ground.
We opened it and played the man’s songs on the piano and read the man’s stories.
We found his wife’s number at the end of the short stories and called her.
She was disinterested in our thrill and, pacing on the beige carpet in her living room, she said
" He was the least favorite of my lovers."