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Coherent Dreaming

I wake once more, wondering why I should dream an entire, and rather sad, short story about a man named George who wears a matching dark blue shirt and corduroy trousers, his shirt buttoned to the neck with one of those silver metal noose things instead of a tie, making him look like a country-and-western singer. He borrows money from the first-person narrator, who is male, and is a writer, and his name is Charlie, because that's what George called him in my dream. "Charlie my boy" he says "We'll be able to retire to an island paradise with the money I'm going to make you." Charlie watches George deteriorate. His chin gets increasingly grey and stubbly, and his belt becomes pulled more tightly up so that he develops that nerdish look of a waistline above his real waist. He ends up homeless, sleeping on a hotel roof under garbage bags, and I think he's going to jump off in the end.

How strange.

Comments

( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
asakiyume
May. 26th, 2009 11:34 am (UTC)
Wow--that's pretty intense and sad. Kind of a death-of-a-salesman sort of story, but we don't know George's profession.
lidocafe
May. 26th, 2009 01:44 pm (UTC)
Sometimes writers say they've dreamed the kernel of a story. Perhaps you have done that. I'd definitely read that book.
intertext
May. 26th, 2009 04:49 pm (UTC)
I probably wouldn't (read it), and I wouldn't think I would want to write it; that's why it's so strange.
egretplume
May. 26th, 2009 06:10 pm (UTC)
I would read and enjoy this short story. I am already assuming that the narrator is wildly successful and wracked by guilt.
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )

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