a love/life sentence

i had a nightmare last night. i dreamt i murdered my friend 'frank' and buried him in my front yard. it was a shoddy job: i kicked an area of loose dirt aside then over him (it was an arid climate, as in utah). anyone step on him, or a strong wind come, and i was screwed. i thought of putting up a sign, 'keep off lawn,' but it wasn't a lawn. i was doomed. i waited on my sofa for the cops to come. i felt like such a loser--i'd killed someone, and done a sucky burial. i felt i deserved it all: prison, prison food (which would surely include iceberg lettuce), prison toilets, prison clothes, all-female--woahs! no, no, i couldn't go to jail, no way no how, or i'd die, dead.

i've no idea how i killed this person (funny, but that wasn't part of the dream), but i know it was without care (e.g., in plain daylight), planning, thought or even motive. i mean, i liked frank. if i were to get away with this murder, it was going to take a miracle: surely someone saw something, and all over town people were doing crossword puzzles, the solutions to which would reveal the killer (i carried them around, too, but of course didn't do them). the puzzles were like time bombs--never mind that the people were no good at crosswords! it seemed hopeless. i had to be brilliant.

when the cops came to question me, i mentioned casually that i was dating someone (in reality, i don't know this person), saying he was an odd, odd, odd! yet lovable bloke. they showed interest, and i said, 'ohhhh, no, not him--he's an angel! i mean, he's unpredictable and emotionally fragile--total loose canon!--but he's great. so sensitive...insane, troubled.... he loves his shrink.' turns out this guy looked anemic, foreign and though bookish a half-wit--i.e., for this scheme, perfect! but 'fabby' wasn't wholly without charm or appeal (think: a muted sacha baron cohen character), and it truly pained me to imagine framing him for murder. i vacillated. i asked myself, 'how could i live with contemptible me after this? how will i sleep at night? i mean, he's european--he will be EVERYONE'S bitch.' then i thought about sleeping in a prison exclusively bitches and was resolute.

fabby and i took a walk in the park, and i'll never forget the look on his face when he realized i was setting him up (i waved at the cops and pointed at him). when the cops started toward us, fabby threw down his puzzle book and ran. i was shocked and pleased, it was all so easy. fabby was so slow, the cops took a couple steps and grabbed him by the collar. i couldn't bear to watch, so i went to new york and rode a crazy chairlift running backward up hunter mountain.

because the hill people were suspicious, whispering and pointing, still laboring pitifully over their crosswords, i crawled under a house. my dear friend 'foubi,' a tall, blond manly man, was surfing the pacific ocean in the basement. he shouted over the crashing waves, 'you're innocent--INNOCENT!' i was shamed by this display of faith and said, 'what if it was me? what if i'm insane, and i did it?' 'no,' he yelled, 'it's a dream--A DREAM!' so i went inside to use the toilet. there were so many doors to the bathroom that i nearly peed my pants deciding which one to enter and then closing them all. then there was no toilet paper, so i sat there.

i was still hanging out on the toilet when some dude peeked in (i think it was his house). then my mom peeked in. i said to mom, 'i know it sounds crazy, but i took a liking to fabby. and i really thought this might, despite the whole wrongful imprisonment thing, make him fall in love with me--for being brilliant and clever, succeeding--for having a can-do attitude!' she stared at me. i said, 'he likes brainy.'