I always wondered who ‘They’ are. Is there some super-secret Outfit putting out the truisms, half-truths, puzzles and all riddles of the universe? If so, I hoped to hell I never met them. Beating up that Outfit might not be a wise career move.
Not that I’ve made many wise career moves myself. I tend to do or say the wrong thing on a fairly regular basis. It’s my God-given talent.
I’d been through the Dream Machine several times, more than advisable certainty, always hoping to find a dream with which I could live. Clowns and ponies and happy rainbows aren’t a needed commodity in anyone’s life, much less mine. I couldn’t think of anything less appropriate. Thing is, you’re only allowed one dream. ‘They’ monitor those things. Little lying bastards.
Unless, of course, you’re me. I refused to settle, which I always thought a commendable trait. The third time changed my mind forever. The third time was when the nightmares begun.