A few weeks ago people started giving me disapproving emails. "Do you have a job yet?" "Are you seeing anybody?" "What are you doing these days?" "Anything new going on there?" It's started to make me paranoid. People ask me innocent questions when I meet them, ask what I do, just small talk and I answer in a defensive, dismissive way--I make little jokes, end up drawing attention to it. Or maybe they don't notice at all? I can never tell if they're smiling with disapproval in their eyes or if that's just me, just my paranoia. I keep smiling, keep joking, and meanwhile my interactions come unraveled around me.
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True, I talk of dreams, which are the children of an idle brain, begot of nothing but vain fantasy, which is as thin of substance as the air.
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Sometimes you wake up every morning for a month with your heart pounding and this sense of dread, this sense that there's something wrong with your brain, but by the time you calm yourself down and get out of bed you can't quite remember what the dream was about. And that starts to bother you, too, because you have this conviction that it's been the same dream every time.
So you start writing it down, first thing, no matter how terrified or disoriented you are, and you find out you're wrong. It's been a different dream each time. So you delve deeper, because maybe there's a common thread. It doesn't matter, you tell yourself, that dreamers often lie, so long as there's still some truth to be found.
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Dreamers Often Lie by R.S. Mason is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0 United States License.
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