From The Dept. Of Bad Dreams
I’m stuck in a desert, and there are only two roads: the I-15 North between Vegas and SLC, and the 95 to 93 South to Phoenix. Go all the way on one, and I’m stuck in college. Go all the way on the other, and I’m stuck in a previous relationship. Stay in the middle, and I’m stuck at home.
I need to find someone but I don’t know which road they’re on, how to find them, or - most importantly - who they are. Furthermore, there’s now an subway system identical to the MTA with local stops along all of these routes, but the subways are if not hidden, then incredibly hard to find. I can’t leave this situation until I find whoever it is I’m looking for.
Even worse: a Pulitzer Prize-esque awards ceremony is taking place on both of these roads. I’m there when one of the winners is announced on a subway, and find myself vaguely disappointed that the winner isn’t me (but too frazzled to care that much). I spend most of the dream driving and stopping at 7-11’s that don’t have gas pumps but that do have eight-flavor Slurpee machines. This doesn’t help me.
Nobody I talk to can understand why I’m doing what I’m doing, and thus, are of absolutely no help to me. I give up, get a Slurpee, and sit on the curb at a 7-11 somewhere between Phoenix and Vegas, in the middle of the desert. I wake up 10 hours after having fallen asleep, feeling a deep, cavernous, existential longing for something. Possibly some money in my bank account.