2006-05-07 - 7:51 a.m.

If we paid for our dreams, I think mine would cost enough that my bank account would hurt for it. But maybe almost everyone who remembers thinks of them as overwrought.

When I wake up after long dreams that I can't remember, my brain feels as if all those complicated thoughts have been drained into my heart. I'm beginning to imagine the event happening with lots of hard beeps from factory machinery, signaling industrial waste being routinely emptied from one vat into another.

The heart, in turn, feels as if two unrecognized people are sliding their arms against each other, inside my chest. Two limbs touching. When they rub together, it creates a harrowing feeling.

To get rid of it, I think the solution would to hold hands with someone while walking down the street and eating ice cream, but that's more like something out of a music video. I think I'm gonna walk to the rental place and listen to music now. Music and videos instead of music video happy endings.

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