"The lights are still on," Dreamed Addison, "but I'm afraid I don't think I know how I'm going to fix tomorrow. Am I broke because I'm an alcoholic or the other way around?"
"I don't know," thought Trent, his high pitched trademarked phrase, "but I'm still moving."
"That's it?" thought Addison. "I thought you'd have some kind of idea. You sure as hell have before."
"You're gay," dreamed Harris.
"I'm not like that," dreamed Nic, "get off a me!"
"The world is full of things I want to do and be that I never will for a variety of reasons and it can be a little frustrating sometimes. This isn't a sustainable lifestyle."
"What's that?" thought Trent.
"Writing. Authoring, publishing, editing, gonzo-ing... whatever you want to call that arcane stuff."
"Every day is somehow different, yet a little bit of the same. I'm not a fortune teller guys. You have to go to Atlantic City to find consultative work such as that."
"Look!" dreamed Harris, floating, masturbating, "I'm a space cowboy!!"
"Aren't you precious hero pup," dreamed Addison, breathing slowly. "I'm not afraid of rehab, institutions, or death, but eventually one or all of those things are going to happen at some point. Not just to me, but to everyone who is, was, and is to come. I don't know if that's in the Bible - maybe it's just the Qorltainisrep talking - but I've always taken on too much and expected my wildest dreams to come true at any second. I might have been a maniac, and maybe I always will be. Who knows. The afterlife does have its perks."
"Tell that to your grandma's dialysis machine."
"But when the world gives you all of what you need and none of what you want, you have to rethink the entire thing and go back to the drawing board," dreamed Seeder at 4 am. "My supernatural abilities are persisting with my loved ones as well as debunking the myth of celebrity. The Dalai Lama came to my grade school too and the entire city was lined up around the block."
"Let me give you some adv..." thought Travis.
"No," interrupted Nic, "let Addison speak. This is an incredible phenomenon. Eighth wonder of the world type stuff."
"My heart is really heavy."
"This feels like a really bad episode of Romper Room."
"You're too young for that."
"Exactly."
"Shimbo," thought Trent.
"That would be the case," dreamed Harris.
"Go ride a bike... dumb ass," dreamed Nic. "Or a long board for that matter. I don't give a shit."
COLLECTIVE DREAM SEQUENCE 62
"I'm more organized than I thought," dreamed Travis, spinning the rotary, two miles from the Atlantic Ocean. "Wait," he thought, "how the hell did you do that Addison? That was fucking incredible."
"Just keep a straight face and go to sleep. You think this is surrealism? You sure about that? How's about some good summer reads."
"No."
"No."
"How can I do all these things," thought Andrew, "and not have two pretty Bulgarian pennies to rub together?"
"You talk waaaaay too much," thought Nic, Trent, and Harris - collectively.
"Try not to think about the money. That's the trick."
"I look like Uncle Remus to you? Seriously."
"Too much great material," collectively.
CLICK
"Hey Stephen. STEVE!"
"Too much black magic for me to handle. That doesn't surprise me the second I read the words 'black magic' on this page - that dude said it. That'll be four flip kicks and a Christ Air."
"Get up!!" thought nothingness.
What did they mean what? Was this the renascence of American lit? Possibly. Tomorrow would tell. Get your sweet sweet ass into the shower. Fuckin' Quarter Horse. I can't believe it's taken you this long to discover the meaning of 'Love.' Welcome home.
"Whatever fuck-face," said Harris standing up red-faced, glancing at his phone. "Oooh... never mind that gay stuff... I just got the Rello's text. In between two Christmas Carol songbooks. Nice."
Harris walked over to the non-fiction side of the library and had no trouble finding the baggie of herb.
5 minutes later:
"I got dat loud nigga!!" he whispered singsong - taking his seat back at the table.
After arriving at Seeder's house, they made their way to the picnic table in the back yard. Harris broke up the weed and rolled a pretty fat blunt. Soon after they'd finished smoking, Melody dropped by with some startling news.
"O my God did you guys hear what happened today?" she said frantically.
They shook their heads "no."
"Mr. Peachman is the prime suspect in a child abduction."
"No way," said Trent. "Who did he abduct?"
"A three year old boy. Aiden Ross. Apparently he grabbed him from the playground at Tearden Park just last Saturday morning. Harris, your nails are a mess by the way. Tighten up."
"Wait - what? Hang on. You're joking," said Harris. "Mr. P? Our science teacher? No way. He's married with kids. Not even possible."
"Crazy world huh? said Melody showing them the news article on her phone. "There's an Amber Alert out and everything."
"Looks photo-shopped. You did that," said Harris. "But even it it's true - I can see that too... guy was weird - like - last month we were studying brain chemistry in his class, and he was talking - I don't know - like - monotone to me. Then he started commenting on the lab assignment I had just turned in, and just before he walked away from my table, he said the word 'tubular,' and snapped his fingers once. Hard. I felt - I don't know - different afterwards."
"That's the dumbest shit I ever heard," laughed Trent tapping on his phone, "you have the hots for him. Fuckin' queer."
"Not really all that weird," said Melody. "The guy has a Ph.D in psychiatry and metaphysics. He understands hypnosis. Subliminal mind control - whatever you want to call it. It isn't uncommon for teacher's pets to become hypnotized. Harris, everyone knew he had a huge crush on you. He probably wants you as his after-school-sex-slave. What do you mean you felt... 'different?'"
"Kind of excited about something I couldn't describe. I don't really want to talk about it thought," said Harris lighting a cigarette.
