Bob Dylan’s biggest fan

7 Aug

I talk in my sleep. And even more than that, I have dreams that bleed into waking life, like the time I found myself in the complete dark middle of the night, naked, and headed for the back door to meet the woman who was waiting for me there…because I had an appointment in my dark backyard at 2am?

The other day I woke up before the alarm, and felt proud as I checked the clock and said to myself, “5:30. That’s a good time to wake up.” Then my eyes drifted just to  the right of the clock, at the fan, and I thought, “Does that fan know everything about Bob Dylan?” I then woke my companion up to ask, “Is it 11 one dollar bills, or several 11 dollar bills?” Without hesitation, he answered. But then he asked me why, and as I was explaining that the fan knew every fact about Bob Dylan, and I was just checking up, I started to realize that it made less sense the more I talked. He said, “Are you asleep?” This, of course makes me protest – “No…” but I realize that I am lying out of confusion/embarrassment/pride and it is nothing but perfectly obvious.

But this is how I live.


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