Imaginary Keith slept late this morning, so I just sat on the edge of the bed and watched him dream. Dreams about college and running long distances. One dream about getting in an elevator with five women, where he found himself stealing glances so he could rank the women in different categories. Biggest hair, most mysterious, innocence, tallest to shortest, most comfortably dressed, most insecure, biggest breasts, nicest eyes. Imaginary Keith felt awkward, stealing glances and playing this game, but it was a long ride up, and no one was talking. The door opened, his floor, and he stepped off and that dream was done.
In one dream he ended up dating the daughter of a customer. The customer is real, but the daughter is not. Funny, that Imaginary Keith should dream about an imaginary daughter. And then, just before he woke up, I could see that he was dreaming about the imaginary daughter again, only this time he was supposed to be working when she walks out onto the back porch with a camera and her mother. They want to take his picture, out under the trees. He agrees, and heads towards the trees, but stops as he suddenly sees a giant, black gorilla jump the back fence and run a few steps towards him. He freezes in fear, but the gorilla just stops and waves. The ice is broken. The gorilla continues walking around the yard like he’s done it many times before, and Imaginary Keith notices that each time the daughter and her mother turn towards the gorilla, he stops and poses for a picture.
Imaginary Keith never gets his picture taken, but he does wake up, rather suddenly.
“How come we never talk about politics?” Imaginary Keith asks.
“Good morning.”
“It seems like we would talk about politics once in awhile. Everyone else does.”
“Exactly. Don’t you think everyone else does enough talking for the both of us.”
“Well . . maybe I have something to say.”
“Fine. Feel free to say whatever’s on your mind.”
Imaginary Keith has so many blankets on the bed I can barely make out his shape. That many blankets must be heavy.
“I had a dream that a gorilla waved to me,” he said.
“I know. I was watching.”
“Oh. I remember that I wished you were there with your flashlight.”
“He seemed friendly enough. He did wave.”
“Yea, I guess. But you never know about gorillas.”
“I guess you’re right. Did you still want to talk politics? Maybe discuss the candidates?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I had a dream about the candidates.”
“You did?”
“Yes. I was on my way somewhere and they all got onto an elevator with me. I remember I was sneaking looks at them, sizing them up.” Imaginary Keith never remembers his dreams as well as I do. He gets them all jumbled and tangled together.
“You were?”
“Yea. But then it got all mixed up. One minute they were presidential hopefuls in nice suits, and the next minute I was thinking about their hair and their eyes, and who was most innocent, and stuff like that. That was kind of creepy, so I got out of there fast, after that.”
“I see.”
“Dreams are weird.”
“I’ve heard that. But let me ask you one political question, before we get sidetracked.”
“Okay. I’m ready.”
“Of all the candidates, which one did you think had the biggest breasts?”
Imaginary Keith’s kicks are useless. The blankets are just too thick.
“Now get out of bed. I’m just about to set the date on the time machine.”