Letter to Sam
I don't just dream of poets and presidential candidates. I dream of you too. That means there's a part of my psyche that assigns you to be its symbol. Probably my fact-obsessed, irritating, graph-making part. Oh, I take that back, sort of, well partially, I'm enjoying your electoral college graphs.
You want to know what the dreams are about, but you're a little worried they might creep you out. Well, you should be worried. Sometimes I do have creepy dreams. For a while I used to trade dreams with two friends, but one time I only shared with the woman-friend because I was so ashamed and couldn't bear to tell the man-friend. That's cause the man-friend is a man. I couldn't bear for a man to know I dreamed such a thing. Honestly, I couldn't bear for most women to know either, but my woman-friend has a giant penis on the cover of her book. I thought if anyone would be OK hearing such a horrific dream, it would be her.
That dream didn't involve you. It was a poet dream.
Most recently I dreamed you and Ivan were in the basement I used to sleep in as a child. It was an Eastern European prison camp and we were journalists. Then Ivan turned into this really hot guy and we started getting it on. See I can admit that because it wasn't Ivan, it was metamorphosis. This wasn't the first time Ivan changed into a completely different person in my dreams. But it was the only time I got it on with the person he became. Anyhow, the prison warden tried to steal my pen and I acted like I had a weapon and snarled "Go ahead, I can fuck him and kill you at the same time!" I was totally fierce, but totally bluffing. I didn't have a weapon.
Hmm, maybe you think that's a horrific dream to share? You're so sensitive. It was supposed to be funny. Let's see, more Sam dreams. . . one time I was on my way to meet you and clams fell out of the palm of my hand. I lifted up the skin to see underneath and found a bunch of rainbow-colored worms.
In another dream a young man approached me on the street and gave me a formula and directions. He said, "Six times S and M." and I said, "S & M? Do you mean Sam Minter?" And he said, "Yes."