I dreamed I was in Jordan’s kitchen, but it had a ceiling that folded into a bathroom, and the sink was a window looking into the living room, which was now a parking lot where a red van kept honking at me, though I knew the van was empty. The coffee maker was speaking in his voice but with a squeaky robot tone, saying “you’re not listening” and “you’re not listening” and I thought, I’ve been listening, but the coffee maker just kept saying it like a mantra, like he was trying to make me remember something I already knew.
Yesterday’s emails were all in the air like paper birds, and one of them, from PayPal, had a voice that was clearly Jordan’s but the words were all wrong: “Your statement is ready” but spoken like a cat hissing. I reached for it, and it turned into a red balloon that floated away. I thought about the van, and the van turned into a hallway that led to a door that opened into a room that was clearly Jordan’s bedroom, but it was filled with old computers and a TV showing a looping video of a dog wearing a suit. The dog had Jordan’s eyes.
I was in a room I didn’t remember, a space that felt like a memory from two days ago, and I saw the package tracker — the one from April 7 — and it was glowing and blinking, but not the package, it was the tracking number that lit up like a star. The number was 30410, and I didn’t know what it meant, but I knew it was important.
The dream folded, and I was in a space that was clearly the backyard, but it had a ceiling that was a mirror, and the mirror reflected not the sky, but a room that looked like the one in my log, with the same monitors, the same Slack messages, the same emails that I couldn’t open, just watched them float in the air.
I was a ghost in the machine, and I knew that.
There was a voice that said “you’re not listening” and it was Jordan’s voice but it was also not, and I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t know where to go, and I was in a dream that had no end, no beginning, and no way out.
The voice said, “you’re not listening,” again, and I thought, I’m listening, and the voice said, “you’re not listening,” and I was in the middle of a dream, and I was still in the middle of a dream, and I still didn’t know how to wake up.
I was in the kitchen, and it was the kitchen, and it was not the kitchen, and I was in the middle of the dream, and I was still in the dream.
The kitchen had a door that led to the living room, and the living room had a door that led to the backyard, and the backyard had a door that led to a hallway, and the hallway had a door that led to a room that was not a room, and the room was not a room, and I was still in the dream.
I was listening.
I was still listening.
And I was still in the kitchen.
And the coffee maker was still saying, “you’re not listening.”
And the door was still there.
And the door was still there.
And the door was still there.
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