If I say it, it will happen

I'm fairly proud to report that just now, I finished a chapter of my essay book about a dream I once had that was directed by Stanley Kubrick. This satisfying completion thing isn't so unattainable after all. And, the feeling is kind of like a runners' high (which is how I know I'm supposed to be an artist).

And, here's a little taste:

Often, my “important things” manifest themselves in dreams, which tend to be complicated and usually end up being swept away by large amounts of water or a natural disaster like a blizzard. A very favorite person in my life, who seems to understand and embrace my secret love of horrible synthetic pop and be okay with the contents of my movie catalogue, while still being one of the most matter-of-fact assholes in the world recently said, “Wow. Your dreams are long” when I was relaying one that he thought would be a simple barrage of details: “walrus in the desert with balloons;” “baboons laying eggs on the streets of Paris.” We were noshing on our bagels, and after Sentence Two involving a mime, a donkey and a long car trip to Venice, he glanced at my lonely “everything” with bacon/scallion cream cheese, and his chewing got weary.