I know listening to people tell you about their dreams is about as exciting as watching soccer, so I won't bore you with details. But last night I had this dream where I was on fire--metaphorically, that is: I was conversing with a group of people and firing off one-liner, after one-liner. I was wilder than Wilde, sharper than Shaw, and if I say I was wittier than Noel Coward, I wouldn't be lyin'! (Get it? Coward? Lion? Same to you!) And in my dream, I remember thinking to myself that I would need to remember this stuff so I could use some of it in today's "Solipsist."
Now, ordinarily, in this type of situation, what would happen is, I would wake up and not be able to remember any of the things I had said that were so hysterically funny. In this case, though, I do remember a bit of what I was saying. And, if I do say so myself, the general level of wit holds up, even in the stark light of consciousness. The problem is that most of the witty remarks I so easily tossed off had to do with the fact that, in the reality evoked by this particular dream, Chinese premier Hu Jintao was competing for the Republican presidential nomination. Upon waking up, I realized that, as this was not the case, my jokes wouldn't really make much sense.
Yeah.
Why can't I just have sex dreams like a normal person?
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