Never end your stories this way, it’s clichéd 

I dreamt that I dreamt that I died. Someone ran a harpoon through my dream-self’s heart, my vision went crimson and I fell backwards over a bridge. As dream-dreams go, it was quite peaceful and painless. 

When my dream-self woke up, he felt very significant and aware of her own mortality so went around boring all their friends about it, over and over, every single conversation dropping an “I dreamt that I died the other night,” into it like a bag of bricks until eventually I woke up and shouted, “You were never fucking alive in the first place,” and they died for a second time, this time for good, THANK GOD.


Published by Gareth

London-based artist

%d bloggers like this: