Last night:

I dream I am talking idly to some girl at a club. It is a noisy, leather-upholstered place. She shows some interest in me and I stay to see how much. We're on a couch in the back room, unsure, bored. I'm probably wondering, "What am I even doing in this place?" as I often wonder, wandering about my life.

I'm looking off into the distance when a cop comes into the bar, steps on a barstool and removes a gun from his ankle holster. He walks slowly to the large bay window, gun held up at a 45 degree angle. When I see the gun I think, "What is he doing?" and watching him investigate the high angles of the window I say outloud, "I don't trust that cop." Someone seated near says, "He's probably FBI."

He whirls and shoots, a bullet lands softly and noiselessly beneath me. Another in my neck. I wake up in the empty room where I'd been depressed last night – it's 8 am. My eyes are open, but I've been inclined to sleep till 10, 11 most days, not having much to do.

I think "show the bastards you want to live" and I get up.