THREE DREAMS I HAD AFTER READING DONNA TARTT’S THE SECRET HISTORY FOR THE DURATION OF A NINE-HOUR FLIGHT HOME FROM FRANKFURT
01 i work at a clifftop coffeehouse. i go to restock the fancy baked goods counter and a shifty-looking wolf follows me up to the crag we use for storage. i give the wolf a sudden push and he falls to his messy death; his corpse turns into my friend’s ex-girlfriend. YOU’RE A USER, i shout at her. THE GOVERNMENT WILL ISSUE COINS TO COMMEMORATE WHAT A USER YOU ARE. SEVENTH-GRADERS WILL WRITE ESSAYS ABOUT IT.
02 my seventh-grade history teacher is lecturing us about crests painted on medieval shields. i ask if a certain kind of shield would be held by a lancer or a swordsman. “i think you should spend less time thinking about what’s on the knights’ outsides and consider what’s on their insides,” he says, not unkindly.
03 i have a bunch of slick blazers like donna tartt’s.
Um. Luckily dreams are what put us back together, not tear us apart.
ReplyDeletei think they can go either way, really, but these just made me laugh. a strange book, that one; i enjoyed it about twelve times more than i enjoyed the goldfinch.
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