These Dreams of You

~ ~ ~

Suddenly it seems absurd. Suddenly Zan is convinced, lying there in the street, that like the character in his new and utterly misbegotten novel, he’s been whiplashed to some other place in time except it’s another present rather than the past; he’s been swept up and deposited in a warp of voices saying things that haven’t been said but only considered — political rants, personal observations, plans and promises stillborn, playlists of songs and those who never sing them — and that in fact nothing about his life is real anymore if it ever was, he has no son, he has no daughter or wife or house.