Dream I: I am at my work desk. A juicy cockroach ambles from behind the table lamp and makes its way to my stapler, a brown metal Swingline from the 60s. I wonder: where did the roach come from? We have no roaches here; did someone come and leave a crumb? Are we now infested?

Dream II: I am told that the husband of a neighbor wrote a book. I am told the book is great. It is suggested that I buy this book. I go on Amazon. There is the book. It has a red jacket, with white lettering. It looks like the cover of a child’s coloring book. Centered in the red is the doughy, smiling face of the husband of a neighbor. He looks like a putz, something like Uncle Floyd, and I am glad.

The End.