Maybe you’ll dream of a blurred christmas, like I did. Or maybe you’ll dream of me, blurred, your brain chemistry turning me into a watercolor version of myself. I like to float, you know that.

One day, we should go to our inner movies. We should gang up on them and tell them what’s real and what’s not. Like those people who occupied Wall Street. Freud once wrote: “History is a flotation device.” Or maybe it was the other Sigmund.