Two Hundred and Seventy Three

I’ve had two dreams since I spoke with Justin.  One would be remarkable enough, because I almost never dream now.

In the first dream, Justin was a monster from a Maurice Sendak children’s book.  He didn’t seem to be in the second, but there was someone in it like him—someone I hadn’t seen in years, and barely remembered—who telephoned me and asked me to join him on a cross-country road trip.

In the dream I speculated why he had chosen me, because we had never been friends.  But I’m friendly with everyone, or try to be; and often people without many, or any, real friends attempted to turn our relationship into a friendship, or something more.

Most people don’t have many, or any, real friends or real lovers, and settle for sex because they can’t find love.

I used to hear them crying out in my dreams, like souls in Hell; but I almost never dream now.