dreams are the brain's garbage and what I'm doing here is tantamount to sorting my trash before it rides a pneumatic wagon to a farm upstate it looks an awful lot like all the other garbage but ordered and arranged just so knolled like the springs and sprockets of a pocket watch, decorticated and laid out to be cleaned or repaired they say there's nothing duller than other people's dreams, and I hope against hope that that's false tell me about the forking of your universes the strange geometries and non-places of toilet roll towers and unrelenting rain and the chasms you keep falling into and the teeth that keep falling out of your head every speech you've given naked and each cringeworthy exchange you re-examine in agonizing slow motion the torches you carry like a scorpion's tail the pills you can only swallow in your sleep dreams are not a key or a lock or a chest or treasure; they are the air surrounding, the patina on your thoughts, the reductions that glom onto the sieve of your brain long enough to be noticed
Derek Godin is a writer based in Montreal. He is the co-founder and co-editor of the film criticism website Dim the House Lights, a graduate of Concordia University’s MA Film Studies program, and a two-time WWE Intercontinental Champion (only two of these are true).
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