I went to a theater to see a play. In the middle of the second act, there was a pause. The actors seemed to be waiting for something. A tall man walked up to me and whispered, “You’re in the play.”
“I am?” I said. “But I don’t know the lines.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “You’ll know what to do.”
I climbed onto the stage, and the actors beat me up.
I saw a toilet on the sidewalk. I had to take a shit, so I sat on it. But people were looking at me, and I grew embarrassed. So I put a mirror over my face. That way, they would see themselves shitting, not me.
My neighbor plays music at great volume, but he has such wonderful taste that I don’t mind. Often I see him in the street and exclaim, “Thank you for playing that Brahms concerto from 3 to 5 A.M. last night! It was so much better than mere sleep!”
One night I couldn’t sleep. “I wish I could dream,” I thought.
So I entered my neighbor’s dream, and kicked him out. “Get out!” I told my neighbor and his friends.
“But we have nowhere to go!” they said.
I pulled a gun on them. “Get out!”
They left. Then I sat alone in the empty dream.