You were in my dream last night.
I meet you both at a bar. You’re in line to get a drink, and there’s some drunk rowdy people also in line. One guy tries to fight Rajiv for standing next to him. I get between them, but he calls me a little boy. One of my old friends, who’s always had anger issues, is also in line and steps in to protect me. The guy punches him in the face really hard, dazing him. They both get kicked out. I ask Rajiv to get me a beer. While he’s ordering, Angie tells me the magazine she’s been working on is increasing its print to 500, up from a max of 53 for the last 6 issues. I ask him they survived so long while printing only 53 copies. “We have a grant from this philanthropist. Basically a $5 million gift card to help us out.”
I ask if the grant came from Walmart, sounding real jealous.
Angie can’t tell I’m joking and eyes me as a philistine, so I lean into it. “Man, the shit I could get there for 5 mil. In George clothes alone!”
The first guy comes back into the bar holding a bucket of oil and a blowtorch, still furious. Rajiv tries to turn him around. I run outside through the emergency exit, but before I can get far enough away, I hear an explosion. A split second later, all I feel is pain, then relief.
Then I wake up, after one more death.
[Dreamor’s note: This is an edited transcript of the following voicenote to Rajiv and Angie.]