If Life Were a Dream Then My Dreams Might Make Sense


I started off working a scam on a bank that involved yarn masks and stealing nothing of any apparent value. My partner wound up in an involved chat with friends inside a boutique while we were supposed to be getting away. I waited outside, still masked, growing anxious.

A crowd grew outside, as customers assumed I was waiting for the store to open. So many witnesses made me even more tense, but nobody seemed to notice my mask. Finally someone tried the door and went in. Everyone laughed and went inside.

I decided to move. I stuck my mask under my hat and wandered off through the snow. During this excursion, I lamented that I still hadn’t lined up a summer job, and I wondered if my comic book ideas were strong enough to earn money for course books next semester.

I went back to the shop and went upstairs to an apartment. Nobody was there, but it was decorated with amusing artifacts and tchotchkes. I decided to leave, but no sooner had I entered the hallway then I was nearly knocked down by a man running away from a chihuahua.

We fed the dog treats, and I figured the two would be friends.

Then I woke up — a baffled, middle-aged man whose school days were long past, wondering what was going on in the depths of my subconscious. I pet the kitten as he ran past me, then went back to sleep.

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