Dreams.

a kickball game is underway in a swamp and the alligators have been trained to catch the ball in their jaws and stand up on the water and drop-kick the ball back to land but this one which is unnaturally large (are we sure they are alligators? they may be supernatural creatures, and in any case they are frightening) keeps running up to reclaim the ball so that he is essentially playing kickball with himself

and haruki murakami is giving a lecture on something like globalization and identity and there is a huge audience and we are separated from him by a fence, he is actually in the swamp and occasionally retrieves a stray kickball and tosses it back to the alligators, and a girl comes up to me and asks when he is going to talk about asian american literature and i am trying to explain that althought this lecture isn’t really about that she will probably find it of interest anyway but she turns away from me and yells MURAKAMI WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT CHINESE FOOD and he actually gives her a direct reply which is something like it can be very delicious in his experience

my view is blocked by three unnaturally large young chinese men who smell of old sweat and i realize how hot it’s been

and then you remind me that we have to finish our training so we turn to page 115 of the manual and the next section involves singing directly into the kiosk or Training Machine and it has become nighttime

i am shaky at first but the songs on page 115 are all soft rock classics that for some reason i know quite well and this one is a duet called “quaaludes of tears” as if a quaalude were a measure of tears

i wake up with the tune of this nonexistent song still in my head

3 thoughts on “Dreams.

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