In this dream I'm reading a book entitled
On page 369 I discover a passage
which so brilliantly elucidates the meaning of meaninglessness
I resolve to copy it out
in longhand,
to incise it into my brain.

But the thrill at discovering this truth is so intense
I wake up from the dream—
only to realize I've loaned the book to a friend
who was on his way to a conference
in Indianapolis,
and the plane crashed
with the book in his luggage.

I mourn the loss of the book more than the loss of my friend,
and I am so ashamed of this
I wake up again
to realize I've been dreaming again,
and now there is only the sound of the word Indianapolis
and a Post-it note stuck on my desk
reading "p. 369."

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