November 10th, 2017


I cannot remember the words, but I was reading an old paperback detective novel set in Chicago, and the Obamas came up as witnesses of some kind. I found it hard to believe and tried to reread the sentence.

I was dreaming. A non-lucid dream, as usual. The closest thing to lucidity was when I found it hard to believe. I do find that the "jarring thing I found hard to understand" is what I often remember about a dream. Maybe it's just that my dreams are chock full of such jarring things.

Maybe, in my dreams,
I'm constantly wondering how surprising
Everything seems
While rarely recognizing
That I am deep