One time, years ago, I dreamed that I was in a cave with David Byrne. He was a 70's era David Byrne. Just a couple years older than me, rather than the decades that separate us in real life.
We were smoking cigarettes and speaking low. "You are the only one who REALLY understands me," he said. "I know. Why has it taken so long for us to be together?" I replied.
Instead of tritely resolving the tension with a kiss, we stared at the rising smoke and continued to discuss the divergence of reason and desire.
Yesterday I found his blog.
He sometimes posts his dreams, which recently involved an orca and snowboarding on Mt. Rushmore, but not smoking cigarettes in a cave with me. WTF???
1 comment:
That bastard. Perhaps he was too smitten to admit his true feelings.
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