“Let’s pretend you just woke up.”
“Pardon?”
“How did you wake up?”
“Huh?”
“How’d you sleep then?”
“I didn’t. I haven’t. I couldn’t.”
“Ah, so one who dreams, without dreams or a dream. What’s it like when reality isn’t so real? No rest for the waking?”
“Oh, you know, the usual. My delusions and hallucinations are all true a little bit all the time so i’m shitting my pants and laughing my ass off constantly. I’m the grandmaster’s son, or daughter, can’t remember this time. I’m his kid for sure, or whatever the fuck that means, if it means anything to you fuckhead. Don’t ask me what time it is, or how to make time for things and we won’t have a problem. Linear enough for you?”
“You should get some gloves. And something to write with.”
“Right. Gloves for the mood swings and an angry journal.”