The faster it ran away from me. And I found myself reasoning that perhaps one more beer would unlock the doors of perception.

Was insanity really easier to accept than unconsciousness?

Another dream. Another long-distance call on my phantom party line. No wonder i had steadfastly refused to have dreams for most of my life. So stupid; such pointless, obvious symbols. Totally uncontrollable anxiety soup, hateful, blatant nonsense.

What do you want a clock for?” “To find out what time it is,” I said. “I think that’s the usual purpose.

Weren't we all crazy in our sleep? What was sleep, after all, but the process by which we dumped our insanity into a dark subconscious pit and came out on the other side ready to eat cereal instead of our neighbor's children?

Of course it was a terrible thing, and the world would be a much better place without someone in it who could do that, but did that mean we had to miss lunch?

...my conscience has the same hard reality as a unicorn.