I had a crazy vivid dream. I kept waking up and going back into the dream. I was in a cabin in the woods, a kind of back-country hostel, and all my friends were there, friends from now as well as in the past.
There were threats of all kinds, from having no room so I'd have to sleep with a stranger, to bears attacking, to some kind of interpersonal beef where I was in trouble with all my acquaintances. They were all running around anxiously now.
During the chaos, I found myself drafting a plan to the most perfect piece of writing ever penned by a human. It made sense of the whole world, now and forever. I understood the story at a macro and micro level.
I drew up a draft so perfect that even my body knew heavy shit was going down; it kept waking me up to remember it. And then in the rainy Sunday morning light, all that was left was one sentence, the phrase, a title.
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