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We went to visit a.’s brother, who was a little hurt that a. hadn’t told me about his rap career as “MC Literal Brother.”

I woke up just enough to think it would amuse a. in the morning if I could remember to tell her about it. So for the rest of the night I dreamt I told a. about the dream over and over, in different permutations, kinda like this:

me: How come you never told me your brother’s a rapper?
a: Huh??

. . .

me: I dreamt I told you I had a dream about your brother’s hip-hop career.
a: <mumbles sleepily>

And though I realized in each of those dreams that all the previous dreams were dreams, I never made the connection that I was still in a dream. I also think each successive dream altered the previous context. I’m not sure, for example, that the phrase “MC Literal Brother” was actually in the first dream, because I can barely remember that dream at all. . .if it weren’t for the vague memory of fuzzy half-wakefulness afterward (which I trust less the more I try to concentrate on it), I might not even be sure there was a “first” dream.

This makes me want to watch Waking Life again, of course.

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