They didn’t notice I was dressed only in my underwear, but they were going to.
They spoke a language like sallow mist, which drifted out of my grasp and left only a thin residue when it had passed.
They came with an assignment of grim portent and unclear details, which I had to complete but could not.
List other descriptions of people who were “So dreamy!”, as in “Actually similar to the kinds of people you meet in your dreams.”
Ah, well, there’s been a number of dreams I’ve had where my family and friends and I go into a bookstore only to find Frank Sinatra there, mike in hand, singing his heart out. For some reason we are always embarrassed by this, and have to take the microphone away and sneak him out the back door.
I’m involved in their deadly games. They always seem to target me, but take out the person next to me instead. They want to prolong my agony, so I can never know when my demise is coming.
On a staircase, I don’t need the steps to go down but can glide or surf down the edges of the steps on my shoes. I tell myself that I forgot I could do that.