Fred Aiken Writing

in my dream,

the police officer keeps asking about my papers,

and i’m thinking that he’s talking about documents that prove that i am who i say i am,

like ssn and driver’s license and deed to my house or something,

but instead i find out the officer,

who looks like a matrix character,

is talking about documents that somehow prove i know how to brew coffee,

and then somehow that segues to me in front of the world aeropress championship,

naked,

alone,

realizing that i have never brewed coffee in an aeropress before,

so i lose

and then i’m arrested,

and then i rot in jail for the rest of my dream life,

and then i wake up