Codeine Dreams

Last night I had a crazy dream. A crazy dream I daresay might be prophetic.

I dreamed I was a writer who dreamed he wrote a book called “The Dumbest Thing I Ever Did.” In his dream he remembered every one of its 87,435 words and each in its proper order. And better yet, he became a multimillionaire over the book, as talented Hollywood filmmakers quickly optioned it.

But the thing is, he forgot the contents of the book when he awoke. In effect, it was the dumbest thing he ever did. So he wrote a book instead about a man who forgot what his book was about – until that man remembered it was about a man who forgot what his bestselling book was about.

So I dreamed I was the man who had to write a book about a man who wrote a book about a man who forgot what his book was about.

Here’s the catch, though.

That third man, the last man in the chain, is actually the reader! Or in this case, he’s actually me!

All I need to do, is put the whole thing down on paper.

But not in a linear, traditional chronological order.

I’m going to write it in a seemingly random order. A Donnie Darko or some type of Christopher Nolan-type time frame. However, it will ultimately make sense.

If you start at the top left corner of a blank piece of paper and draw a the single image from each chapter and curl this images into a spiral adhering to a tight fibonacci curve, then hold it arms-length away from a full-length mirror, you’ll discover –

The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.

Or the Face of God.

It all depends on whether I decide to write the whole thing in e-Prime or not …