I had a lucid dream last night. I think it’s from the valium. I’ve been taking valium. Or clonazepam, to be precise. I hear they’re not really the same.
As I became aware I was dreaming, I decided I would try to do some awesome dream shit. I was dreaming! I could do whatever I wanted and it would be entirely inconsequential!
Obviously, I decided I would try to fly. I ran down a deserted sidewalk in a nameless city and spread my arms out. Nothing happened. I ran faster, my legs a blurry xylophone beneath me. Still nothing. I leaped for the sky. My vertical was no higher than usual.
I gave up. Running’s never been my strong suit, anyway. Why should I expect flying to be any different?
Then I decided to try to see him. It’s been almost two years. I miss him. I conjured him in a church. Where else? I turned a corner, and he was there. He saw me and said “oh, you’re here.” And he walked away.
He was never my strong suit, anyway. Why should I expect him to be any different?
