Thursday, December 13, 2018

Dreamt of a joke: “Coming out as bisexual. Isn’t that just a way to brag that you’ve been with more than one person?”

Wednesday, December 12, 2018

There had been some kind of work conference, a discussion of new technologies, in an open space on an airport mezzanine. Suddenly we were outside, and the space we’d occupied was now two large, old cars. I observed the action outside the airport, the crowds bustling by wheeling their luggage, buses and taxis driving the maze of approach roads. I noticed two workers carrying something long across a crosswalk. The light had turned and they were rushing to get to the other side before the cars came. They were too slow. A pickup truck veered towards one of them, angrily, as though to punish them. It hit one worker. The occupants, two or three men, climbed out and attacked the man who’d been hit. They chased him along the sidewalk and got him on the ground. One attacker brandished a stick. I was among several people making a video of the scene with my phone. I felt ashamed, and suddenly realized I should call 911. A woman answered and put me on hold. Music played. She finally transferred me to a number that didn’t pick up. The line went dead. I tried again, got disconnected again. I tried again, same thing. By now the fight was taking place inside one of our two cars. The victim was cornered in the back seat and his aggressor was beating him with the stick. Finally two muscle-bound cops wearing black tunics arrived to sort things out.

Friday, December 07, 2018

On vacation by the ocean somewhere with a weird group of people, some of them kids. I was sleeping a lot. There was a car race on TV but I woke up after it ended.

Wednesday, December 05, 2018

I was sitting in a parked car watching a man and a woman who stood in front. I wondered if I could read their lips—if it was something I could spontaneously learn just by will. I couldn’t really make out what he was saying. But then she spoke into her phone and I could read it, or maybe just hear it because she was closer to me, I don’t know.

Thursday, November 29, 2018

I was rehearsing with C. D., then C. W. showed up. they went away to discuss something in private, at C. D.’s insistence. I hung around waiting. I noticed that R. P. wore mismatched shoes and I was amused. “Nice shoes,” remarked M. R. When they came back C. W. fired me from the band. He started out by saying nice things to soften the blow, like, “You’re pretty good at playing the piano,” but i knew what was coming. We were living in a sort of hippie compound, weird people coming and going, fans of the band. It was unclear how everyone would react.

Wednesday, November 28, 2018

I was on a business trip to Chicago, with L. C. from work. We met up with an all-American white collar type who made raunchy jokes as banter. He said he worked on the 14th floor of his building and I considered asking him if it was the Sears Tower. We were meeting in a big restaurant, possibly connected to a hotel. I found old friends at a table near us and went to greet them cheerily. At one point J. A. from way back when was there. We did a strange pantomime of going to hug each other but acting like we were held back by the wind. I was conscious that people were watching us and hoping they’d be amused.

Tuesday, November 20, 2018

I was swimming in shallow water at a beach.

Then I dreamt about Sally and Jay. I had a debate with J. L. about repressed memory therapy. Someone came to Jay for help reconstructing a traumatic memory from his childhood riding the school bus along Route 2. He wanted to go back out there and see if it triggered something.

I was trying to find a bar where I was supposed to meet up with J. K. Rode the bus there, got off too far away, had to cross all these big. complicated avenues.

Monday, November 19, 2018

Making coffee in the morning, trying to pour into a tiny cup, like a doll’s cup, spilling it on the counter. Discussed my life insurance situation with J. T.

Thursday, November 15, 2018

B. B. at work needed help with his résumé. He gathered me and two others in a room within a café and described to us what he wanted the first paragraph to express. I scanned the original he’d given us and found that he was from Canada and had trained Air Force pilots. Later he asked me for money. I told him I was very reluctant to make loans. I warned him not to be a fuckface; he had to pay it back. Eventually I asked him how much he wanted. Twenty thousand dollars, he said. I’ll give you forty, I replied, and he accepted with a sigh of disappointment. Then I continued on to school, annoyed that he’d made me an hour late—here it was 9:30 already. I didn’t even know what class I’d missed. Was it possible I had free period to start the day, and it wouldn’t matter? Not likely. I tried to remember where my locker was. I thought I found it, but couldn’t remember the combination. Somehow the lock opened anyway and the locker opened. It was full of locks.

Wednesday, November 14, 2018

The band was ending, ceasing operations. We picked up some final things at the house, some guitars, some valuables, before leaving it forever, abandoning it to disrepair apparently. I delayed our exit looking for my shoes. We were wistful, maybe a little sad. Someone was playing outtakes from one of our recording sessions, a song I did not remember. I had a solo at the end but my guitar was heavily distorted and way too loud. There was weird art on the walls and other artifacts of time spent creatively, but long ago.

Tuesday, November 13, 2018

On vacation in a little coastal town somewhere, we started off on a tour of escape tunnels. There were hundreds of them apparently. It was unclear what the escapes were for—from war, from persecution, or just to a better place.

Thursday, November 08, 2018

Back in high school, hanging out with D. S. In the dream we were closer friends. Also, I had no awareness that he was dead—he died a few years ago. We were talking about how fair-skinned people like us are susceptible to bug bites. K. R. sat nearby. She told me she “likes to hit this,” indicating D. with her thumb—meaning she and D. have sex.

Monday, November 05, 2018

I was at some sort of school reunion. I was watching the proceedings with a schoolmate, a woman I didn’t know too well. There was a kind of parade of people in a class a couple of years ahead of me. I told her that in school I thought of all these people as “big kids,” and I still do. I felt this was a poignant statement, and she seemed to agree. She went on to tell me about her failed marriage to another fellow student.

Thursday, November 01, 2018

I owned a Les Paul with very low action, making it actually unplayable. Dreamt of this because I was thinking of the manic guy who set up my guitar once and did that, thinking I would love it.

Monday, October 29, 2018

I was working construction in some tall building, showing up late every day. I also had my regular job in the same building and was doing them both somehow.

Thursday, October 25, 2018

I looked up on a map where Guinness was brewed, and it came up in Belfast, not Dublin. Belfast looked tiny, just a few neighborhoods with a park in the middle, the brewery down at one end. Then I was there, on a tour. Gathered at tables outside at the end of it I guess. A homeless man started harassing a group of black guys—he too was black. He sprayed gold paint in the face of one man. I wondered if anyone would call the police, an ambulance—and finally one came. I assisted in getting the injured person on a stretcher, though he now was a white man dressed in women’s clothes.

Wednesday, October 24, 2018

We were late one morning. Sara sent me and Jackie off in a Lyft so I could drop her off quicker at school. I realized during the trip that it was a driverless car and pointed it out excitedly to Jackie, who didn’t really seem to care. Then I noticed the driver and felt embarrassed that I’d said aloud that we were in a driverless car. He’d now driven way past where he should have turned. I called out to him. He couldn’t hear me because he was wearing headphones. Finally he did, and responded in French. I explained to him in French what he’d done and where he now needed to go.

Tuesday, October 23, 2018

I was on a winter vacation with a group of friends. They were going to do some climbing, of a steep hill or a rock wall in the woods. One, who reminded me of my high school classmate D. C., warned that it was going to be a bit difficult. I wouldn’t join them, then, I said.

The scene outside the lodge we all were sharing was surreal. Cars full of people, like open-air limousines, came and went from weird theme bars. I took some pictures. My sister Lis handed me a phone, said it was our cousin Jen. I said hello but she did not recognize me. I said my name and still she did not recognize me. Finally she did. By way of an excuse she told me she’d been napping, and I told her I’d just woken up too.

Monday, October 22, 2018

S. K. convened us all and presented us with checks. Apparently some part of the company had just been sold and we were all entitled to payouts. At first I misread mine, thinking it was just over $1,000. I was vaguely disappointed. Then I realized it was for $174,000. J. P. asked how much it was and I showed him. He said that it made sense; I was supposed to get the biggest share. I felt guilty, thinking I didn’t really deserve it. Still, I began to fantasize about what this might mean for my family—we could afford some luxuries, go on more vacations, maybe even buy a better home. S. then led us to a bar for a celebratory drink. I wondered if it should be on me but I let it be on him.

Thursday, October 18, 2018

I explained rules of Formula One to J. T. I suggested that maybe they should go back to tires that last the race, so drivers could just go flat out more.

I was at this place that sold Paris St Germain soccer team souvenir wine dolls. The red wine was black players, the white wine white ones. Thank God they have black players, I thought.

Tuesday, October 16, 2018

I was playing basketball with Kobe Bryant and Jackie and J. L.

Thursday, October 11, 2018

There was a party for me at a bar, for my birthday, or maybe because I was going away. H. C. and P. C. were there, and others. When it came time to pay the tab I found that we had collected hundreds of dollars. I had a devil of a time counting it. Finally I paid up with one dollar to spare.

Wednesday, October 10, 2018

The studio was crowded with people. M. R. was setting up mics, getting ready to record. We were going to sing something with a huge ensemble, like “Give Peace a Chance.” I peered around the room at the many happy, enthusiastic men and women and remarked at what a great vibe there was.

Friday, October 05, 2018

We were driving somewhere up north, for the second time in two weeks. I wondered if we had enough gas. A quarter tank. That should be fine. S. wondered how long the car would hold up. I said a while, even though it was old. Before it died it would start to break down and eventually something would happen we didn’t want to pay for—the transmission or something.

The last part of the trip was on foot. There were lots of bags to carry but they were light, so we managed. We stopped somewhere for food but I wasn’t hungry. There was a strawberry milkshake on the menu and I asked S. if she’d order it.

Thursday, October 04, 2018

I had a little cut on my wrist, like a paper cut, and it itched like the Devil. There was something afoot at work; my boss’s door was closed.

Wednesday, October 03, 2018

We were all waiting at my brother-in-law’s parents’ house. There was going to be some sort of service honoring the father’s military career, followed by a party. He soon arrived in a parade of Marines in ceremonial garb. I thought we should abandon our preparations go downstairs and greet them. S. thought otherwise.

I was enlisted to play keyboards in C. W.’s band. I didn’t really know how to play but if I knew the tunes I could bang out some of the right notes in the chords here and there.

Thursday, September 27, 2018

There was a party at a house up a long wooded driveway. I went up there and I saw it was Hells Angels, so I thought better of it and turned around. There was an interesting song playing though, something about getting your kicks, over four chords and a shaggy beat.

We’d bought a new home in Westchester somewhere. The apartment was still furnished with the seller’s things and I contemplated what to throw away, what to keep. Then there were other people there, visiting us. There were mannequin heads arrayed on top of the kitchen cabinets. The fridge was painted a dull pink.

Wednesday, September 26, 2018

Two French travelers had come through town and stayed at the band house. After they left C. D. said, “I should have taken them to the French River.” This was a picturesque landmark near us, apparently. I told him, “And on the way, you should have gone on incessantly about how they’re French and the name of the river is the French River.” This seemed very funny to me. I couldn’t pronounce “incessantly” properly.

Tuesday, September 25, 2018

A dayslong party on a property with multiple houses of different sizes. J. L. got extremely drunk. I was scrounging around for food. In one cottage I found some eggs in the fridge and wondered if anyone would care if I cooked them. People began to congregate there. Two guys wore identical print button-down shirts and I pointed it out, saying how funny. No one seemed to think anything of it.

Bob Dylan was a dog who quoted dark warnings from the Bible.

Monday, September 24, 2018

We were saying goodbye to some relatives, after a visit. D. and S., and B. Then we took a train for the long journey home. In it my dad held forth about the privations of World War II in Europe. He described how restaurants would pick the icy snow off of customers’ hats and coats and serve it to them as sorbet. After eating the customers played cruel games with each other, one of them involving singling people out for whipping with napkins. I had a sense of Nazism infecting the spirit of the people.

Thursday, September 20, 2018

I was like the walking dead at work, knowing I’d get laid off soon. I wandered over to where the French programmers sat—we were all in one big room. F. H. caught my attention to say he wouldn’t last long either, by way of comforting me. I asked him what were his plans. He and his girlfriend would go on a trip, he said. He asked me if I’d ever been to Pelouse. (“Pelouse” is French for “lawn.”) I told him I thought I had as a child. Then the office turned into a bar and a soccer game was on TV.

Wednesday, September 19, 2018

I was hanging out in a bar downtown with G. C. and my old hometown friend B. S., who grew testy and obnoxious. At one point he grabbed my arm and examined the crook of my elbow, claiming to see needle tracks. There were indeed little holes there that seemed to go past the sinew and all the way to the other side. I protested angrily, saying maybe at one time that was true, but not anymore. B. had a second mouth at the level of his chin, a wide, grimacing maw full of sharp little teeth.

The bar was one of those old ones that claims to be the first in New York City. G. C. said it’s funny, there’s a different address on the door than the actual address. I said it’s because 170 years ago—I thought carefully before choosing this number—no one gave a fuck what number they were at or what street they were on.

Monday, September 17, 2018

I rode a centrifuge that was meant to replicate zero gravity. Someone I knew was driving it, like a car, and someone else I knew was another passenger. I waited to feel it. But I didn’t, really. I lifted up my hand, thinking it would seem to float away. Nothing was too different, except I kind of wanted to puke. Maybe it would work if I had a spacesuit on, I thought.

I was near Donald Trump—he was getting out of a limo—and I imagined running up and calling him a pig. The praise I would get, the vilification, depending.

Thursday, September 13, 2018

I was sitting at a table at a tropical-themed outdoor bar with an ex-girlfriend. Someone up at the bar invited me to drink with him. I couldn’t decide what to drink. “A Coke?” the bartender suggested. “What’s in that?” I asked. “Coke,” he replied. I’d imagined it was a whole lot of different booze that tastes like Coke when it’s mixed together. I considered a tequila shot.

Wednesday, September 12, 2018

Driving my parents home, up and down steep hills, going too fast—90 miles an hour.

David Bowie was my brother, or my cousin. I realized this when I read something in a book he’d written, a kind of autobiography in which he mentioned me and my brother and wished us well.

Tuesday, September 11, 2018

I was at a Radiohead show with friends, the night after the disappointing one we saw. It’s a much better show, I told them. The sound was better.

Thom Yorke began wandering the crowd, interacting with people. He came right up to where I sat, singing seemingly improvised nonsense words. I held up my phone, but worried that he might take offense. Between lines in his song he told me it was OK. I took a few pictures and thought immediately of posting one to Facebook with the message, “Thom Yorke just sang in my face!”

Monday, September 10, 2018

The band hadn’t been rehearsing enough and there was a gig coming up. I wondered if I’d even remember how to play all these songs, whether I’d have to improvise my parts. C. W. did always say we played great after a bad rehearsal, I thought.

I was listening to “Satisfaction,” how this was the beginning of Keith playing like Keith plays, the double-guitar riffing thing, except it wasn’t, really. Only in my dream. At the end of the tune Charlie played repeated accents on his snare, and I knew they were coming: Yeah the twister comes, here comes the twister, bang-bang-bang, except that’s not a Rolling Stones song at all, is it?

The Stones were now playing behind a gauzy curtain to the side of an arena, and I was sitting in a floor seat. I craned my head to the right to watch their familiar shadows: Mick prancing, Keith and Ronnie doing what they do. It’s not clear why they chose to be shrouded.

We were on a bus tour through Central Europe. We were advised to look out for the anti-semitic relics on one particular street, signs or messages from a darker time. Except why were they still there, I wondered. For the tourists?

Friday, September 07, 2018

Tim was still in charge of the office out west, all these years later. The place was dilapidated now, the chairs ratty, computer parts and cables disordered everywhere.

But he was still running the Product. And some of the French guys were still around, tweaking the algorithms. Their determination was poignant—heroic, even. Still there was no plan. No viable path to profitability. But there was hope.

And I wanted to help. I wished I could help.

Wednesday, August 29, 2018

P. S. from the record store was giving me a ride to a gig, along with another friend of the band’s. We stopped at a grocery store to buy beer or something and they left without me. I was furious, indignant. Eventually they came back to get me. P. apologized but he was drunk, driving erratically. Acting manic and strange.

I was contemplating Tom Waits songs, which ones make me cry the most. I thought it might be “Tango Till They’re Sore.”

Tuesday, August 28, 2018

Someone at work, one of the brand coordinators, snuck something into my water. Like, dosed it with a flavoring of some kind. “Did you notice?” she asked, giggling. Not really, but sort of, I said.

“Can you guess what it was?”





My old job was combined with my new one, as often happens in dreams. There was a nagging error in some code that I wrote, something that came up red upon compilation. I showed it to H. C., the programmer. Surely he could see where the syntax was wrong.

Sunday, August 19, 2018

We were at a bar that we’d been frequenting, hoping to become recognized as regulars. For some reason it was closed to the public, as though it were after hours or a private party was going on. A group of men appeared at the door and I asked them who they were, what they wanted. They walked past me blithely, without responding. I realized they were friends of the owner, or maybe among the owners, and I was embarrassed at not having known.

Sara ordered me an Oddly Ale.

Wednesday, August 15, 2018

Getting ready for band rehearsal. C. D. was said to have woken up and be drinking coffee in bed upstairs, a somber, looming presence as usual.

I was doing a comedy bit about old couples. The woman wearing fancy patent leather shoes but the man wearing those bad tan sneakers with the velcro.

Tuesday, August 14, 2018

I was at a sort of family reunion. A couple who were rich friends of my parents—one of the was I. D., but he was divorced from Morny and remarried to some other woman. They had a business buying and selling luxury antiques. She described to me a transaction they were undertaking and I asked her how much they’d laid out to buy these goods. She bristled and refused to tell me, shaming me that it was taboo to talk about numbers like that.

The party was going on outside on the lawn. She pointed out to me a distant relative, a young man, who was a dangerous drug dealer. Music played that sounded like the Rolling Stones. A man was whistling into two empty bottles, playing along. I marveled at how he was able to sound so good, to play a blues scale in key with the recording.

Friday, August 10, 2018

We were on vacation in an unfamiliar American city. I went out on my own on some kind of errand. First I had to get cash. I went across the street to find an ATM, which in fact was a guy on the corner making change for people. I gave him two hundred-dollar bills and he gave me back the equivalent in personal checks he’d collected from people in odd sums—thirty here, fifty there. I wondered if I’d just gotten fucked. How would my bank accept these weird checks? Was I supposed to forge the endorsements? What if they bounced? I saw that one was written by my former coworker S. F. and I thought, that’s funny, she must live near here. Another had some creepy, violent messages scrawled on it. I definitely thought that one wouldn’t get cashed.

Later J. and I got on a bus. At one stop she got out to ride her bike alongside, and for a while I watched her from the window but my attention drifted and after a minute I realized I’d lost her. I got off, carrying various bags and things, and went to look for her. There were other little blond girls here and there but not her. I wondered if she’d know to go back to the apartment where we were staying. I panicked. Realizing it was a dream, I forced myself awake—back into the realm where she was safe and sound.

Wednesday, August 08, 2018

I was at a work meeting, shaving my head with a weird device, a wedge of red plastic with little blades on one side. The hair was getting everywhere. I wondered if I’d be reprimanded for this, or if I should apologize right now to those nearby. I decided I would. But I was determined not to stop. People went about describing various jobs that were circulating, what to do about them. I kept shaving my head.

Friday, August 03, 2018

At band rehearsal. The rest of them start playing a jam but I’m still looking for a cable for my guitar. I ask B. if he has one. He looks but he’s looking at the wrong kind. Finally I see there’s been one attached to my guitar the whole time. I laugh at myself, saying I was “seething with frustration” at not being able to play till then.

There’s something terrible about the town of Willimantic. Good thing we only come here to rehearse, I think to myself.

Tuesday, July 31, 2018

There was an after-gig party at someone’s house. It turned into a record store at some point. I was hanging out with J. W., who took a surprising interest in AC/DC albums.

I was in the studio with Steely Dan, recording a guitar solo for “Fire in the Hole.” After I played one Donald Fagen said it was good “but let’s try again.” Then I did a better one, and he said, “Let’s listen to that one.”

Thursday, July 26, 2018

Working on SC at my old job, trying to develop code that would make it recognize the letter A with a French accent grave—à. This was part of some language-teaching element. I realized the impossibility of perfecting the bot, that anything you add in one place takes away from something in another place.

There was some problem with water entering the office. A dew had formed on the surfaces of all the servers and equipment. M. L. was trying to make sure everything was OK.

Wednesday, July 25, 2018

C. D. asked me what the word is for the thing the guitar strings sit on at the end of the neck. I thought for a moment and then I remembered. “The nut,” I said. “The nutmeg,” he said. “The nut,” I said again. “The nutmeg,” he said again too. I wondered if he was right—is the nut so named because it’s made from the wood of the nutmeg tree?

Saturday, July 21, 2018

I yelled at F. for accidentally deleting our mailing list database. I was choking with rage. “There was no backup?!” I screamed. Later I apologized to the group. I now felt my place was tenuous.

Friday, July 20, 2018

At the band house at night. Some people pulled up in a bus and began yelling threats. I remember hearing something but then I fell asleep right on the spot, sort of blacked out. Next thing I knew I was in a car with the band—someone must have helped me get away. We were just in the driveway though. I wondered if the bad guys would find us. I became aware that they were in the yard somewhere, doing nefarious things like bad guys do.

Thursday, July 19, 2018

We had big piles of cash for some reason. We wanted to show it to Jackie, have her feel 3,000 dollars in her hands. I tried to count up the necessary hundreds and twenties. I had the kind difficulty you often have in dreams—losing count, dropping bills, starting over again. The apartment door was open. We lived on street level, on a corner. I was afraid the money would blow out the door, or that someone would see it and come take it.

Tuesday, July 17, 2018

I was on a plane that needed refueling. It landed at an airport and taxied to a far-off spot where other planes were getting fuel. I wondered if it would all blow up.

I reconnected with my old friend S.A. I knocked on the door to his parents’ apartment. His dad answered and said he’d get him.

I was at a McDonalds with Mick Jagger and his girlfriend.

Monday, July 16, 2018

Bike riding through a city, through an intersection, almost getting hit by the cars after their green light. I had just learned to ride. I found myself myself on some step that kept rising, as the steps to a big stoop or plaza, and realized I’d fly off the other side, so with my mind I made myself stop suddenly, as though I had no momentum. Now I was holding onto a statue. I tapped it and judged it to be hollow. The statue hit my head with the back of its hand. I managed to scramble away onto a platform on the other side, where some people were. I hoped to be able to get down.

Sunday, July 08, 2018

A repairman arrived to fix two things in the house: the fridge and something else. I looked in the money drawer but there wasn’t enough to pay him. I examined the back of the fridge while he was doing the other thing. There was a complicated network of valves and tubes, water dripping from different places, some of it falling into an old jam jar, some of it falling onto a patch of floor that had blackened from neglect.

Friday, June 29, 2018

We were on vacation in Canada—I must have dreamt this because we were recently in Montreal. At a restaurant, I drank a beer and thought, I shouldn’t have another ‘cause I’ll be driving. S. and I ordered iced coffees.

Then we were in a weird amusement park that was full of booby traps.

Wednesday, June 06, 2018

A few of us were sitting around a table. Mo was there. The Ramones were playing. I remembered that he’d seen them, that it was the loudest band he’d ever heard, so I asked him where it was he saw them, was it Toad’s Place? No, he said, and he named a place in Brooklyn. I asked someone else if that place still existed and he said yes.

Friday, June 01, 2018

My arms were amputated up to the elbows. But I had a new pair. The old ones were disembodied on a table before me and I found I could still control them a little, though they were developing rigor mortis.

There was a convertible slowly ferrying drunks around town. You could hop on and off wherever, from a bar to your doorstep pretty much. JP was riding it. I saw the car let him out on the sidewalk. He was pretty wasted.

Wednesday, May 30, 2018

My electric guitar developed a crack, right down the middle and into the neck, that would require extensive repair from the luthier himself, if it was salvageable at all. We were talking about playing out after a long layoff for some reason. There were no gigs though, or maybe one, we were having trouble remembering.

Wednesday, May 09, 2018

Dream about Jay dying. He was entering various psychological and emotional states: dementia, distress.

Saturday, April 14, 2018

The apartment was full of relatives, many of them distant. We were all preparing to go on a trip, a kind of elaborate picnic. S. had been cooking for it. Towering dishes were now arrayed on the counters, waiting to be packed away. One pasta dish was piled high in what appeared to be a flowerpot. I emerged from the bedroom in my robe, sheepish at having overslept, eager to lend a hand.

Monday, April 09, 2018

A movie about modern-day pirates who abduct people to become their slaves. One gets free and kills his captor. Toward the end of the movie an escapee gets clobbered over the head and another is recaptured to be another pirate’s slave.

Monday, April 02, 2018

I met up with P.C. and he wanted to see a Peter Sellers movie. I texted Sara to tell her I’d gone out with him. We were joined by G.C. and an academic friend of his. The theater was tiny, and it was unclear whether we’d find seats.

Later I was in a remote village in a dangerous, war-torn country, maybe Afghanistan. I observed the peoples’ rituals. They gathered in the square whenever important announcements or decisions had to be made. I came with them, sitting on the periphery. A cook, an expat from Europe somewhere, smoked a hand-rolled cigarette, and I was surprised that doing so was not a hanging offense.

Saturday, March 31, 2018

A rich political operative was being investigated for corruption. He went on the run. We saw him surveilled from above, from a spy drone, as he enjoyed undeserved luxury. He bathed in the shallow surf of a pristine beach at dusk. The Saudi government had provided his towels. They were visible in a motorboat parked in the sand, big, soft, blue towels folded and lined up on their sides.

Wednesday, March 28, 2018

A reporter had been working on a story about Trump and got abducted. He was held in a compound run by Trump associates. Eventually he escaped, or was set free.

Tuesday, February 13, 2018

I was reading something about the Bible, or watching a documentary about it. It was a reinterpretation of biblical language, the kind where they discover that some Hebrew was never accurately translated and actually means something different. They were saying that the word that was translated in the Bible as “pure” would actually be better translated as “joined from us.”

Monday, February 12, 2018

I was on a plane to somewhere with J.T. On the tarmac I took pictures through the window of other planes, the sunset. I wanted to post them to Facebook but I was using my camera, not my phone. I found it had a feature that allowed me to email the pictures to myself. I tried to type out my email address with the little arrow controls on the back of the camera but it was incredibly difficult. When I finally sent them I noticed I was being charged $3 each time, by the airline or the airport or something. Fuck it, I figured, but I was annoyed.

We were supposed to go to Washington, DC but we landed in St. Louis. In the terminal, in the confusion, I realized that I’d left my black bag on the plane. I doubled back to see if I could get the people at the gate to let me back on.

Sunday, February 11, 2018

I was working from home, having problems multitasking. Collaborating with a colleague named Kevin. Or was his name Tim? I struggled to remember. Everything seemed to be happening at once. I tried again and again to complete a simple job, never quite making it. At the same time there was a kind of rah-rah exercise, a celebration of the agency and its people. We all got our pictures taken standing along a steep sled run, all of us to be recognized and celebrated.

Saturday, February 03, 2018

I sold my car for $750 to a rich guy who lived by the sea in LA. I was with S. and J. and a few other people, maybe in multiple cars. We pulled into the driveway and marveled at the compound, made up of several extravagant log cabins. The man strode out to greet us and handed me the cash. The car was already in his possession. How is it? I asked. Great, he said, great, and I wondered if I’d underpriced it. There were a few empty bottles left on the floor, he said. I said sorry, we like to recycle those. Thinking: We like to recycle those back home in New York City. Could you take care of them? I asked, and he agreed. I gazed through a screen of trees at the beach.

Tuesday, January 02, 2018

I was enlisted to take Kimi Raikkonen’s seat in his Ferrari at a Grand Prix, and finished third. In the dream, this had already happened, and I was dumbstruck by it. How did I actually steer a Formula 1 car for an hour and a half to victory? Why me? I wanted to tell people, but I was embarrassed by the extravagance of the accomplishment. Would they believe me? Who cares, I thought finally—it did happen, and that’s what matters.