Creationae

I dreamt that there was a man sitting in my blue swivel chair, but he was nothing but a shadow, a very defined shadow. He even blew his shadow-nose into his shadow-sleeve two or four times. Thinking I was still asleep, he tried to type something on my computer, but his phantom fingers slipped through the keys.

I also dreamt I was the mayor of some far-flung town. I told my constituents, who loved wearing faux maribou raincoats at night, that I was going to raise their taxes to help a homeless eskimo build his igloo in the middle of our square.

Then I was alone in a lush garden, eating glistening bunches of grapes. They didn't taste violet, but they felt like warm ice cream in my mouth. I walked to the gate of this garden, then gave the rest of my grapes to the fish-men flopping about in the shallow, clear pool outside. According to a sign on the golden cumulus cloud that hung above them, they'd been swimming there since that Old Couple was forced to change residence all those eons ago.