Boulevard of Broken Dreams IV

Like Truman Capote’s Mr. Revercomb in short story “Master Misery,” I will buy your dreams. This just in…

Last night, I dreamed I was at a dentist on the second floor of a strip mall. The lights were so bright they were making me sleepy, and as she cleaned a molar in the back of my mouth I dozed off. When I woke up, she was gone. I went to the window, and saw her drinking a soda at an outdoor table with people. So I leaned out the window and screamed, “Did you just leave me here without finishing cleaning my teeth?” And she pretended she hadn’t, and I yelled, “If you don’t get up here right now I will deliver a devastatingly thorough, Julia Sugarbaker-esque diatribe about you and your office.”

And then she came back upstairs.

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