What a Cool Dream!

I dreamed that my friend Deni was married to Kris Kristofferson and I was at their house. I asked if I could use their phone book and Kris asked why. I told them that I wanted to find a liquor store that sold absinthe and he said, "Why do you wanna go an' mess with that shit for? That shit messes with yer head."

He even sounded like him—that raspy voice of his. I replied that all three of us had done worse things to our heads in the 1960s and 70s and that I just wanted to try it for a writing session. He told me to wait a bit and he'd go find me a phone book. So Deni and I sat and talked and 20 minutes or so passed. Just as I was standing up to leave, Kris came in through the door carrying a bottle of absinthe, which he handed to me.

"I had a feeling you were out getting some,"
I said, laughing.
"I wanna to read what you write,"
he teased. "And it better be good."

We all hugged goodbye and I left.

I took a sleeping pill last night and slept 10 hours without interruption, which was great, but when I woke up I realized I didn't have the absinthe after all. Or that Deni wasn't married to Kris Kristofferson.