May 23, 2005
BIG UP TO THE JUNE 17TH BRIGADE
I don't dream often, and if I do, I can't remember the details. Last night was different. I was living on an island where the ambient light was entirely dark but still illuminated everything. I was standing in a house with framed moustaches hanging on the walls. Someone said "Bush has invaded Cuba." I looked out at the window and saw planes heading across the bay, which was moonlit—I suppose that's what the whole island was. A few seconds later, I saw the power station on the horizon go up in a mushroom cloud. Cuba had retaliated. (It was a fast-paced dream.) The whole island shook and all of a sudden I couldn't breathe. I went outside and people without handbags were turning into ash. Anyone who could wave money in the air had a big red flower growing out of their head. A huge limousine full of Asian kids in prom gear swooped down the street, unharmed, full of laughs and raised glasses.
When I woke up, I actually checked Google News to make sure it hadn't happened.