An old dream: He was very muscular -- not quite the type that as a common rule features in these sort of situations; I have a preference for more classical proportions. But he had a pleasant voice -- not too gruff, but distinctly masculine. His features were handsome, with a touch of boyishnes . . . (More)

I dreamed I was the Creator, and my world rose up before me like a sandy hive. A far cry from a verdant paradise, it was a searing, barren wasteland; a sun beat down upon it day by day without love or mercy, and dry, endless winds howled across the swelling deserts. My eyes stung and watered, . . . (More)

I dreamed you were a cop crossdressing to pose undercover as a bottom-dollar crack whore strolling alleyways and derelict bus stations ...

"Your parents are swingers," Jon Stewart's voice says. "What?" I say in disbelief. I turn the corner. Light floods over me; my mother is sitting up serenely on the far side of an enormous bed, modestly covered up to her underarms by sheets and a butter yellow comforter. "Hi, honey.""Hi." My& . . . (More)

After I fell asleep last night, I slept for several hours more than I should have, and woke with an aching body. In my dream, I had been an unemployed bohemian musician in the 19th century. I lived with my sickly grandmother, my brother, and his wife, in a single room flat laid with grey woode . . . (More)

Last night, I dreamed of a blue apple. I held it up before me, and it was all I could see; I had some sense of where I was -- it was raining -- but everything was in swirls and blurs, and I was unable to discern exactly; it remained in perfect focus. Under my grasp, it felt firm and hard; the ski . . . (More)

I dreamed I was wandering in the desert, a sea of golden sand. I was dressed in a suit, in the style of the 1950s London Everyman -- black jacket, starched white shirt, and a bowler, though no shoes (a curse for a desert-walker!) or socks -- but very, amply, dishevelled, so not quite Engli . . . (More)