Is there a term for when you narrate and critique 
your own weird lucid dream as it premiers 
in the theater of your sleeping mind?

I suppose my subconscious chose him because I admire his writing
or because he seems warm and approachable at local events; 
he definitely wasn’t typecast. 

I realize he has friends who may read this and share it,
which would be a little embarrassing for me,
but, I suspect, pretty entertaining for him.

When Dream Silas offered me the cocaine 
(possibly heroin- that’s snortable, yes?) he was being quite 
pushy, actually. Uncharacteristically snobby and aggressive.

What bothers me most is that I felt the need to explain (?)
Oh I shouldn’t; I have to get up at 5:00 AM on school days, 
I have kids in my face at 7:15, can you believe?

I tried to side coach myself: Just say, No thanks, I don’t do hard drugs, Silas. 
I don’t even know you very well. Or where you procured this angel dust 
(wait- is that PCP, the one that makes people fight like they can’t feel pain?).

I whispered into my headset to whomever was on the other end, 
Who wrote this? Absurd! What -she can’t have freedom or creative energy 
when she’s exhausted from her job? Oh…