A few days after a recent bout of insomnia, my wife and I had a dream.
It was a dream where we woke up, and a friend came by to see us.
We got into bed, and then he came in, and we saw each other.
The dream had started.
I had no idea what was going on.
But it felt like we were waking up, as if we were being held in our own bodies, our own dreams.
“So what are you wearing?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said.
“Then why are you still dreaming?”
“Because you’re dressed in a dream,” he said.
I started getting very uncomfortable.
I was thinking about how it would be like if I woke up in my dreams wearing nothing but a suit and tie.
I’m wearing a suit, but what are my dreams going to be like?
What are they going to look like?
The dream was weird, but the dream was beautiful.
It reminded me of my childhood, of my grandparents’ home in a small town in the Midwest.
When we were kids, we’d spend hours every day in front of the television, and my grandmother would always tell me, “You’ll be the same old girl.”
She told me, I don’t care what you look like, you’re going to sleep with the same clothes every night.
When I was in college, my mom had a really bad case of the pemphigus, and she said, “It’s just the way you look.”
My grandmother always said that, when I look in the mirror and think about the way I look, I think of the dream.
I don´t think about what I´m wearing, but I think about my dream.
In the dream, I see a dream girl sitting in a chair, with a bag over her head.
She’s wearing a skirt and heels.
She looks like the dream girl in the dream—but she has no hair on her face, and her face is almost completely covered by makeup.
I remember thinking, This is the girl I dream about every night when I get a headache.
The dress she’s wearing, though, doesn’t look like the dress in the picture.
It’s so different.
The skirt is so long, and it´s so tight.
The heels don´ t fit.
And the dress looks so ridiculous.
But this is the dream that is happening in my head.
I dreamt about the dress I wore to sleep.
And I dreamted about this dream girl wearing this dress.
The dreams, the dreams of a dream, are like a series of snapshots.
But in my dream, the dream is like a single, coherent story.
It is what happens when you dream a lot.
The last thing I dreamed about in my life was my dream about my dreams.
I just woke up one morning, with my eyes closed, and I was still dreaming.
And now I see it, in my mind.
I can still remember every detail of it, but when I think back on it now, I can only see the beginning.
This is what the dream of a sleepwalker looks like in my sleep.
I am dreaming of my dream: a young girl sitting on a chair wearing a dress.
She has a bag on her head and is dressed in heels.
A woman walks by, wearing a black dress and holding a purse.
Her dress is too short, and the woman in her hand looks like a dreamer in her dreams.
She says, “This is the dress you wore to dream when you were a little girl.”
The dream girl is wearing a white dress and white heels.
This girl is walking past me, in a dress that doesn’t fit.
I have no idea why I am wearing this girl´s dress.
And this is what she is wearing: a dress made out of a piece of string.
She walks past me in this dress, walking towards a white wall.
“The dream that you are dreaming about,” she says, pointing to the wall.
She pulls on a piece from her dress and holds it up to the light.
“This piece of white string is the real string.
It doesn´t matter how you wear it, this piece of this string is what makes it real.
It gives you the strength to be who you are, and you will always be who it says you are.”
She walks to the door, and opens it.
The girl walks into the room, wearing the dress and heels, wearing her white dress.
I look at the girl in my imagination.
She is dressed like the girl at the end of the movie, the girl who is so young and so beautiful that she has never had a real job.
She lives at home with her parents, and they live in a big house with all the appliances.
She dresses like the woman from the dream and she has all the accessories and everything she needs,